The Magnate
by Halt.CPM
Summary: People fear Voldemort for his power – a striking combination of innate genius and surgical precision. People fear Grindelwald for the men he led and the system he created. Voldemort or Grindelwald, Mr. Potter, which one are you? HP/FD AU - Inspired by Santi's BWL and Fettucini's Knowledge is Power. Durmstrang!Harry with a focus on politics and economics later on.
1. The Birth of Greatness

**AN: 23-07-2014 This is a heavily revised edit of Magnate. In fact, aside from a few key plot points, mostly everything is different. This is also set in a highly AU universe. As JKR's story, while well written, is a children's book, first and foremost, I am using the "fanfic author rule" liberally by ignoring parts of canon that would make my story an impossibility. **

**That said, this is an exploration into a world without a prophecy, but will eventually expand deeper into how the magical economy works, a more refined educational system and international relations. Quite a daunting task for a mediocre hack like myself, but I guess that's what fanfic is for…I mean aside from living out our daydreams. **

**Inspired in part by Santi's "Harry Potter and the Boy Who Lived" and "Knowledge is Power" by Fettucini. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own HP. I never have, and sadly, I never will. **

**Chapter 1: The Birth of Greatness**

Harry James Potter, despite the life-altering nature of magic, looked his age. Why, he had seen the man just last Christmas when they had skied on the Alps together! Now though, Gabriel could see the defined lines streaking across his face and his hair gray like pavement, the result of white interspersed between black. There was no doubt about it – Harry Potter was past his prime.

Harry continued to watch him in a hawkish manner that made Gabriel feel distinctly self-conscious all of a sudden. Here was a man who had done more in his short life than what an average wizard could in a hundred! At that thought, a well of pride filled Gabriel and he smiled brightly despite the company. Harry merely deepened into his high-backed chair before crossing one leg over the other.

Gabriel took a deep, calming breath then began. "You've had many titles over the years, sir."

Harry snorted, a regal brow arching up disdainfully. "Titles? I've got plenty of those. Lord Potter, the kingmaker, demon, angel, god-" he said in mocking imitation, hands gesturing as if offering a selection to choose from, "-each more absurd than the last."

"But there are some titles which are based on fact, on truth." Gabriel insisted, body tilting forward with undiminished interest even as his eyes flickered to his notepad.

When he looked up, Harry's demeanor had shifted into an unreadable one as he locked his young companion with a stare that could turn one into statue. Gabriel fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat. "Some," Harry finally conceded after a moment of nerve-wracking silence, "but the truth is often exaggerated."

"Like _Torvak Vilus_?" If Gabriel had expected Harry to be surprised, he was sorely disappointed. The stern expression morphed into a wry smile. Harry Potter knew he knew the goblin given title, and the story, in particular, behind it.

"Slayer of Plagues," Gabriel translated, perhaps unnecessarily, "or perhaps you'd prefer _Hoch Jaeger_? Both well deserved, though personally, I don't think those names do you justice."

"Is that so?" Amusement, or that's what Gabriel thought it was, seemed to flicker behind the aged man's eyes - green eyes that embodied a lifetime of experience and wisdom and hardship. "What makes you think that?"

"_When they expect truth, show them lies. When they expect lies, show them truth_." The words echoed in his thoughts. Harry had offered him this bit of advice at a celebratory game of poker on his seventeenth birthday. For some reason, he recalled them now.

Gabriel broke out of his muse, putting on a thoughtful face, before answering. He didn't wish to appear rude by spacing out in the middle of our conversation. After all, he was a guest of the Harry Potter – even if only because of his father. "They don't capture all of…you?" he blurted out, rather ineloquently.

Perhaps he should have taken more time think that through…

Harry snorted, brow rising for a second time during their short meeting, although Gabriel suspected it was he who was being mocked this time. "All of…me?" Harry echoed.

Definitely being mocked then.

Flushed, Gabriel hurried to elaborate. "What I meant to say is it doesn't quite encompass all of your accomplishments, actions, status and such."

"I really don't see people's obsession with titles. Why can't I just be Harry Potter?" He shook his head in a perplexed way that carried over to Gabriel. Personally, he had been certain that this man would be pleased people thought so highly of him.

"Because you are a legend!" he was tempted to say, "You _cannot _just be Harry Potter. You are something more, a figurehead, a symbol!" -but he didn't, for if there was one thing he feared above all else, it was appearing foolish before Harry Potter.

"There isn't a title that can capture all of anyone. To think that words can encompass the entirety of a human being, in all its complexity, is naive." Perhaps it was in the sudden warmth of his voice or the way his head titled, but Gabriel could not help but think the words were a genuine opinion. Hastily, he jotted them down lest they faded from mind.

His notes updated, he turned to Harry, who waited patiently, again. "There is one, I believe, which comes close: The Magnate." Magnate, from the Late Latin _magnas, _a great man, itself from Latin _magnus _'great',

Harry seemed to consider something for a while. Whether it was Gabriel himself or the title offered, Gabriel did not presume to know. "Perhaps," Harry finally said. The writer could discern neither approval nor disapproval. Sighing, he continued, "Why are you here, nephew?"

"I find you fascinating to study, uncle," Gabriel admitted honestly. No point lying to a man who could read minds really. "Not just who you are or what you've done. Those I can find in a book. I want to know how you became who you are, why you've done what you've done. I want to know how my uncle, Harry Potter, became the Magnate." he said with unbidden curiosity.

He fixed Gabriel with a blank stare, causing Gabriel to shift in his seat and turn his eyes down towards his palms. They had only just begun with the interview; he was being too frank, too forward!

"You are a fool," Harry said matter-of-factly. "Powerful people will not take kindly to your attempts in…_humanizing _me."

Gabriel had envisioned this conversation hundreds of times, of his arguments and counterarguments. How he would convince him to agree. "We have a responsibility to those before us and those after us," he quoted, certain that Harry Potter would recognize the line for it was one both he and his nemesis agreed on.

"History is written by the victors, or as the case may be, the government. Deviations from canon…will be blacklisted and you yourself will be exiled, or worse," he warned, a pained look showing briefly on his face. If Gabriel had been a sane man, he would have left the house and never breach the topic again. Yet, trying to get a person as dangerous as Harry Potter to open up about his past, family or not, was in itself an insane idea.

"My work will survive," Gabriel said with utmost conviction, "and when the time is right, the ban will be lifted and posterity will see a different version, a different you."

"If you insist." He leaned back, closing his eyes softly.

"I do." Gabriel felt his resolve strengthen though he couldn't help but feel he was playing into his hands.

A small smile broke out on his lips. "To think little Gabby would be the one to finally ask me this." Silence reigned as the last rays of light disappeared in the distance.

"My story begins at different points in time, depending on who you ask," Harry began, "my men believe it started after Durmstrang, when the company was founded. My wife thought the point to be the Triwizard Tournament, which was a catalyst for many events. Templar would tell you it was during my third year, when I met him. My brother, your father, on the other hand, argues it was when I entered Durmstrang."

Gabriel wrote all this down with a frantic urgency, wishing briefly that he had brought a typewriter or some recording device. Not quick quills though. Blasted things took too much liberty with words to be trusted in his field.

"Which of them is right?" he asked with eager, unabashed curiosity.

Harry's grin showed some teeth even as he shrugged. "My friend, Luna Lovegood, is certain it began long before I could do magic. 1982, I believe, was the year we agreed on, though the exact date is a point of contention."

Gabriel's mind became a dizzying place to be as he sifted through his thoughts quickly. Many things of significance had taken place in Britain during 1982. The Downfall and the First Death of Albus Dumbledore. The Purge and the Purity Protection Protocols.

How all these connected to Harry Potter, Gabriel did not see.

"Then I shall explain," Harry answered, reading his mind.

* * *

"Our world was dying." the Dark Lord began, voice slow and soft. Yet, it seemed there was magic behind it for his words carried across the plaza easily. His captive audience, a thousand skull masks standing in rigid vigil, could hear his every word with complete clarity despite the distance.

"I woke up on one day and saw the truth for what it was. For every pure-born that entered society, there were three more mages born from," his handsome features contorted, as if he were made to stomach something unpleasant, "_muggles_. We were faced with insurmountable odds, a seemingly unending tide of barbarians endangering our very way of life."

"We demanded for something to be done…but our government, infested with blood traitors and their lackeys, was crippled by inaction and incompetence." Here, his voice became a passionate, angry crescendo that punctuated every word. "The oblivion of culture a millennia old, and some chose to remain blind! Even worse, some embraced it!"

"What woman abandons her lineage? What man rejects his traditions? What people forget their history? Our world stood at the crossroads, and those of us who were faithful, those of us still believed…we made a choice. We chose to fight." A growl of assent greeted him, the first sign of life from the assembled.

"Every inch we took, every battle we won, we paid for in full and in blood. Pure blood." His voice became somber, extinguished of the fire it held, and for a moment, he looked mournful even. "Hundreds of people lay dead. People we could never replace, people with the gift of magic."

"Yet, we endured." A clenched fist rose. "'Why?' I have been asked countless times. 'Why the sacrifice? Why the pain and toil? Why fight?'" he asked, spreading his arms invitingly to the crowd.

"It is because of our responsibility to those before us and those after us." Eyes swept from side to side, spotting the nodding heads and knowing smiles. "My Knights of Walpurgis understood this solemn duty: the obligation to preserve the old and teach the young. No conscious thoughts were necessary."

"So together we endured…together we fought…and together we _triumphed_!" The deafening roar of approval tore through the air. "We bring about a new age - a golden age - of magic and of purity!"

A chant began from the Knights. "Pu-ri-ty!" they shouted in a simple three beat rhythm accompanied with the thumping of chests. "Pu-ri-ty!" The fervor spread from these pockets in an ever expanding circle until the entire crowd had been seized with ardent passion.

"This, my friends," the Dark Lord smiled at his chanting Knights, wand raised in salute at the climax of their euphoria, "is but the beginning of our revolution!"

- The Walpurgis Compendium: A Pensieve Recollection – "The Beginning of Revolution" (London, 1982)

* * *

"I don't want that _woman_ in this house."

The quill in James Potter's hand stilled abruptly, his attempt at a letter "e" smudging the parchment with inky blots. Quill now resting in inkpot, he took a moment to set aside his half-finished letter, before leaning back into his leather chair in anticipation of the next spat with his lawful spouse.

"Shall I arrange for lessons to be held in the broom shed then?" he answered wryly, steepling his fingers in front of him.

The woman huffed and crossed her arms. "That's not what I _meant_." she more hissed than said really, dropping into the seat across James'.

"We're lucky she agreed to tutor the kids. She's a well known Charms Mistress. Do you realize how difficult it is to hire someone of her academic standing?"

"I don't want her near my son."

"And she won't be," James assured her, before his tone gained a forceful edge to it, "but she will be teaching _mine_." he stressed, maintaining a façade of calm in spite of the flaring anger, the kind that any husbands would be wary of, beneath her eyes.

"No mudblood should be teaching a member of the Potter family!" she spat out, a scowl marring her normally elegant features. "I might not be his birth mother, but I am still the woman of this household!"

And normally that would be fine…if she wasn't such a bigot. Hence, Harry would always receive substandard education if she was left unchecked, James knew. That left him with his last resort – an exchange.

"You shouldn't concern yourself with Harry's education anymore. I'll be taking over from now on, but you may teach Robert in whatever way you see fit."

A flash of hurt showed, but she weighed the option in silent contemplation nonetheless. "Fine," she spoke forced calm, which left James wondering if he preferred this over outright anger, "you've made it clear that the half-blood bastard is yours to take care of, but don't think for an instant that I'll let a mudblood teach our heir." With her piece spoken, she stormed out of the room, passing by a curious Sirius Black on the way.

Sirius knocked on the still open door, announcing his presence. "Trouble with the wife, Prongs?" The ease in which he delivered he words betrayed his familiarity with the situation.

James spared his best friend a wounded glance, before standing to pour himself a glass of scotch. "Unfortunately." A heavy exhale escaped his lips. "Want one?" James asked, swishing the amber liquid around invitingly.

"Really?" went unsaid, though the raised brow conveyed it well enough. "It's barely six," Sirius pointed out.

James shrugged unrepentantly, downing his drink in one go before placing his glass back in the alcohol cabinet. "Sometimes, I wonder how different life might've been if I married Lily after Hogwarts."

"You'd have fewer fights, for one, because Evans had you whipped," quipped Sirius, well aware that his friend never had the strength to deny his former love what she wanted, except for one time.

"Just me, her and Harry." murmured James wistfully, his hand passing through his already messy hair.

"Look on the bright side, James." Sirius' attempt at consolation earned him a skeptical look. "Now hear me out, Melissa might not be the most pleasant person to get along with, but at least she's hot. And let's not forget my gem of a godson. Can you honestly tell me you'd rather Robert was never born?"

At his words, the ends of James' lips curled into a faint smile. "Thanks Padfoot."

His reassuring nod said what his mouth didn't. "What are friends for?"

"Are you staying for dinner? Knowing Zippy, she's probably enough cooked for a small army."

Sirius was already shaking his head, face turning grim. "Not tonight. We're heading out."

Startled by the sudden 180 in attitude, James glanced at the darkening skies through his window, then at the calendar on his desk. "It's not a full moon tonight."

"No, it isn't, but Moony's…" Sirius hesitated, eyes darting around suspiciously, "well, it's not my right to say." He reached up and stroked the flap of his ear twice.

James' eyes lit up with understanding. It was part of a secret code from their old school days. "Sensitive information, area unsecure." it meant. Of course, "sensitive information" didn't use to be life or death situations and "area unsecure" then wasn't concerning spies, but that was the gist of the message.

"I'll grab my coat."

Sirius stepped outside, giving James a moment to clear his desk and put on his cloak. A minute later he joined his friend and made to leave. Or they would have had, if not for two sweating, disheveled boys running at them.

One was a miniature James Potter, except for one crucial detail. The recently-turned-ten-year-old boy's eyes were green, the same as his mothers. Harry Potter, the eldest, but not the heir.

The other, a lad of eight, had softer, rounder features. His hair was auburn, which was his mother showing. Robert Potter, the younger and the inheritor of the modest Potter estate. The legitimate son, born from duty, who society had arbitrarily decided was the worthier of the two based on the mere circumstances of their birth.

Not that either knew that currently, and that was how James Potter intended to keep things. They were still young. It would be a tragedy to set them against each other, for few things were more sacred in the world than the bonds of brotherhood. James' eyes briefly darted towards Sirius, his chosen brother in all but name, wishing, not for the first time, that his parents had adopted Sirius when he had been disowned from the Black family.

A persistent tugging on his cloak broke the chains that reflection placed on one's mind.

"Daddy!" Robert squealed, giggling happily in the carefree manner only children under the age of ten could manage. "Uncle Sirius!"

"Father, Uncle Sirius." Harry nodded respectfully to each in greeting.

Sirius chuckled, patting Harry in the head condescendingly. "You're too polite for your age. I don't think I ever called my father 'father' until I was in my teen years," he reminisced. Obviously, Sirius hadn't afforded the term with the same politeness as Harry did.

Harry's face scrunched up, looking like he was trying to recall something. "Mother says I'll be part of society soon. She says I'm to act the part as a son of a pureblood. She would be most displeased if I brought shame to the family."

James shared a worried look with Sirius. Just what in the hell was that woman teaching his son? He was beginning to sound like a proper pureblood child, for Merlin's sake!

"Just came back from Quidditch practice then?" Sirius asked.

"Yup!" they answered together cheerily. It was, without a doubt, their favorite activity of the week.

"Tell your mother I'm going out for the night and not to wait up, alright? I've got some urgent business." He glanced around just to be sure she wasn't nearby, before leaning in conspiratorially. "I might have time to pass by Diagon Alley later. You boys want anything?" he asked with a mischievous grin.

"Candy!"

James stood up, promising the eager boys their fair share of sweets. Ah, it was good to be the favorite parent!

"Oh and Harry?"

Curious, green orbs met his own black ones. "Yes father?"

"I've spoken to your mother," -how he hated lying to his son- "and from now on I'll be in charge of your education. I've arranged a tutor to make sure you don't hurt yourself while learning magic, seeing how eager you are to get started."

A grin broke out on Harry's face, mirroring how James felt, despite the stern mask he was forced to don. "Of course, this comes at some conditions. No more swiping wands when your mother isn't looking and especially no more trying to do magic without supervision," James said in his most disciplining voice. "I want you to promise me, Harry. I'm being serious here. Wanting to learn magic, that's normal for any boy your age, but unsupervised magic is dangerous stuff."

"I promise." Judging by the fervent nods, he probably would have sold his soul away without blinking or even better, agree to be their house elf for life.

"Good, now the tutor I chose is a muggleborn, but despite what your mother says about them, she is more than qualified to teach. I want you to treat her with utmost respect. You will attend lessons on time and listen to her instructions without fail. Am I clear?"

Another nod, another promise secured.

"Good." James said, extremely pleased. "Lessons will be held ever Tuesday and Friday. See you boys later."

"Quite the parent you've become." Sirius remarked once they had apparated away. "Looking for advanced instruction for your kids? I never thought I'd see the day James Potter promoted studying!"

James shrugged. "Learning magic is a bonus. I just don't want him growing up having never met his mum and I'm sure Lily is desperate to see him too."

"You don't think Melissa will see through it though?"

"I have no doubts that she will, and she'll be giving them a hard time about it too…but I hope it'll be worth it."

"Well, if it helps, I think you made the right choice." Sirius said, giving him an approving slap on the back.

"Let's see what Moony's up to, shall we?"

They found their mutual friend in his humble abode that was well kept, which was the only positive thing you could say about it. It was too small, more suitable for dwarves than wizards really and the signs of damage were there, despite its occupant's best attempts to patch it up.

"Should we wait for Peter?" James asked.

"No. He'll catch up."

They headed outside apartment quickly, seeing as it was far too cramped for three grown wizards, and into the Alley. The first pub they tried rejected them.

The bouncer had a scrutinizing gaze that hardened when it landed on Moony. "Sorry, we don't serve his _kind _here," he spat out, not sounding apologetic at all.

"His kind?" Sirius acted confused. This ploy had worked a few times before.

The bouncer gave them a nasty grin and showed them an amulet hidden in his robes. "This here's a half-breed detector. Warns me whenever, say, a _werewolf_, is around."

Remus Lupin, aka Moony, was a rugged man with sandy hair looking close to his thirties. If not for his appearance, he would be the perfect gentleman. Everything about him, from his charming, if mild, manners to his soft-spoken words which were brimming with intellect portrayed an individual that should have been successful in life.

As the bouncer callously pointed out, he was a werewolf, which had shot that idea to hell.

The people that had heard the declaration instinctively coiled back in fright, whispering and pointing at the now uncomfortable Remus as if he had committed some heinous crime.

"Come on." James led them away before an incident occurred. "We'll try the Leaky Cauldron. Ol' Tom never let us down before."

The Leaky Cauldron was not as rundown as it sounded. Tom, the barkeeper, seated them quickly, which wasn't too difficult since it was mostly empty tonight.

Their fourth friend, Peter, joined them after half an hour. A late shift was his excuse.

Peter Pettigrew was a mousy looking fellow. To most he seemed like a coward whom the three associated with out of pity, for he did not bring anything apparent to the table. Yet, those who knew him knew of his value as a man who could get into the most secure places in the world without much trouble. Elusive as a rat and sly as a fox, he was born to survive in nearly any condition.

So when the Dark Lord took over, he was the one who bounced back the fastest among the four with a comfy, well-paying Ministry job under the new regime.

"I refuse to sell out," Remus insisted, crossing his arms defiantly.

"It's not that bad a job, considering the pay," Peter argued. "You scare a few people, mostly to stop them from getting killed by the Dark Lord for boldness."

"Oppression is what it is."

Peter shrugged. "Sometimes, you just have to get by."

"Look Moony," James interjected before the discussion became more heated, "we're not saying you should do as Peter suggests, but there's got to be another way. Me and Padfoot don't mind spotting you some coin."

"That's charity, James."

"It's a favor among friends." was James' futile counter. Once the "C" word was mentioned, Lupin could become stubborn as a troll.

"Leaving the country isn't the solution." Sirius added seriously.

Remus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Look guys, I thought long and hard about this before deciding. This isn't some spur of the moment thing I'm pulling. The fact is," he stressed emphatically, "there's no employment opportunity for a werewolf in Britain, especially one that went against the Dark Lord in the war." He raised a hand to ward off their arguments.

"And even if I put my morals aside to work for the Ministry, Peter would never get me a spot. Fenrir Greyback runs the show. The only way he'd let me in is if there was a body bag waiting on the other side."

And that was the crux of the problem. Fenrir Greyback, possibly the most vicious werewolf in all of Britain and one of the Dark Lord's trusted Knights, held a vendetta against Remus, for reasons even his closest friends didn't know of.

The three remained silent, coming to terms with the reality that their friend was leaving the country, and would likely never return.

"What are you going to do in Eastern Europe?" asked James, shattering the silence with curiosity.

"I'm probably going to be a tracker for a while. The Potions trade is booming over there." Remus rubbed his chin, which his friends knew he did only when planning something. "I might try my hand at teaching...a Hogwarts education should warrant that much even with my condition."

"I hear the Bulgarian Veelas are even better than the French ones," Sirius stated, breaking the ice with his lecherous smirk. "You should definitely tap that while you're there. Merlin knows you need to get laid."

James and Peter shared a laugh, and even the stoic Lupin cracked a smile. "I will, if only because you'll never get the chance, Padfoot."

Another round of raucous laughter ensured, followed by the distinctive sound of a fire whiskey bottle opening. In the early morning before the first light even, they saw him off. He took a portkey to France, his old school trunk that managed to fit all his world positions even in its non-expanded form in hand. From there, he would take a second portkey bringing him to Budapest, and make his way further east on foot.

They would not see the lycan for a long time.

* * *

**_16 October 1990_**

Education in the magical world began officially when one turned eleven. So what do you with all the tykes bouncing with energy yet weren't in school? For most, it was to send them to the nearest local youth center – Ministry operated pseudo daycares where children from magical backgrounds could interact in a safe environment. Every magical enclave had one, including Godric's Hollow, the quaint village where the Potters lived.

It was a Monday today. But unlike any other Monday, it was also the day everyone in Harry's class noticed something different about him. In particular was the wooden stick in his holster, proudly on display for the world to see.

"That's a wand!" blurted out Lavender Brown when she saw.

Blaise Zabini crinkled his nose. "_Buongiorno_, Potter. Your parents finally let you have one?" He had his wand for nearly a year now, the first in their entire group to get his. It was a source of great pride for the dark-skinned wizard.

"Obviously they did, Blaise," said Daphne wryly. "Is it from Ollivander's?" she asked, grey eyes sparkling with interest.

"Yeah, got it Saturday with my dad," Harry said with a grin. "Willow with willingly given pegasus feather, eleven inches." His chest puffed out a little.

"Have you done any magic with it yet?" Lavender scooted over to his side, eyes wide with excitement. "Can you show us something?"

"Er…well, I swore to my dad I wouldn't do magic outside my lessons." Harry watched the girl visibly deflate. "Sorry."

"When's the first one going to be?" Blaise asked.

"Tomorrow."

He nodded. "Study hard, Potter." He paused to smirk at him. "I'm going to need a proper challenge before Hogwarts."

"Better brush up then, Zabini."

"Now boys, behave." Daphne chided, mirth tinting her eyes. "No need to get worked up over second place?"

"Second place?" they repeated in unison.

"Well obviously I'm going to be first." Daphne said, placing a hand on her hip. "But there's no shame in being second place. We can't _all _be as amazing as I am."

Blaise rolled his eyes and Harry snorted. "You wish, Greengrass." Blaise said, beginning another of their lengthy verbal spars.

Harry noticed Lavender looking sullen all of a sudden. "Are you alright, Lavender?"

"It's just so unfair!" She shook her head. "Everyone has a wand except me now!"

"Don't worry about it. I'm sure your parents are going to get you one soon." he said, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder

She sniffed. "You really think so?"

Harry flashed an assuring smile. "Without a doubt."

* * *

It was common for those from magical backgrounds to seek out advanced instruction in specific subjects in order to develop their talents early on. This was in no way a requirement for entrance into a top school – such as Hogwarts, Beauxbaton or Durmstrang, but it made acceptance all the more likely, hence the prevalence of the practice.

Over the years, it had cause a disparity between the performance of children from magical and non-magical backgrounds. Only a few muggleborns ever became practitioners of the magical arts with equal skill during the formative school years, so when one actually _topped _their year, it was understood that the person was exceptionally gifted.

Lily Evans was one such witch.

"Looking lovely as always, Pretty Lily," James greeted with a boyish smile, a trademark he retained from his Hogwarts days. He spread his arms wide, as if making to envelope her.

"Potter," she greeted, though made no moves to return his gesture. His smile faltered, then disappeared altogether under the withering glare the redhead refused to let up on. James' hands dropped to his sides almost as quickly as his nervous gaze dropped to his shoes.

"So…uh…how've things been?"

Nothing but the controlled heavy breathing James Potter was all too familiar with. The sound of a woman trying her hardest not to strangle him and James took the hint to shut up.

"Let's make something clear, Potter." The witch's words were sharp and biting, each one marked with a tone of malice usually reserved for enemies.

She took a forceful step forward and James took an instructive one backwards, nearly stumbling over. "What we had, what we once were, it's over. Finished." she paused, exhaling…dangerously. That was the only way James could describe it. "You don't ask about my life, and I don't ask about yours. Understood?"

James nodded mutely. He couldn't trust himself to say anything that _wouldn't _make this even worse for himself.

Lily nodded sharply, opened the door to the study and left him behind.

"Good morning, Ma'am!" her boy greeted politely, tilting his head.

Lily struggled as a torrent of emotion flooded her system, threatening to overwhelm her composure. Her breath hitched in her throat and she was pretty sure her heart had stopped beating. Her emotional state was a paradox of contrasting emotions; rapture and rage vying for dominance.

She mustn't be angry, her rational side knew. She should've been grateful to see him again. But one look at his face, which left no question as to who had sired him, summoned again the anger she felt for the father she was reminded of. Yet, she managed to keep it under control, for his eyes were a rich, deep emerald that marked him as her own.

"Are you alright, Ma'am?" Harry asked, sounding worried presumably at her unresponsiveness.

"I…yes, I'm quite alright. Thank you for asking, Harry. You don't mind if I call you that do you?" she said in one breath and it showed when it took Harry a while to decipher the rushed words.

"Uh, sure I guess. Whatever you want Ma'am."

"Please," Lily said, smiling brightly at the son she hadn't seen for eight years, "call me Miss Lily. It's a pleasure to meet you, Harry."

**AN: Yes, I am quite aware that you are curious why Lily Evans is the mother of Harry Potter, yet having never seen her son for 8 years. Rest assured, there's a reason – though it'll be quite a while before I reveal that completely. **


	2. A Matter of Education

**Chapter 2: A Matter of Education**

_"Despite the long history of institutionalized educational establishments in the world, the public has never fully embraced the idea itself. Latest estimates by the Ministry of Magic (Britain) place national enrollment for magical education at 34%, while approximately 37% continue to seek out apprenticeships and a further 29% remain homeschooled. This is a significant increase from the "Dumbledorean Period" (Pre-Purity Regime) which had enrollment at a mere 26%. Also of note is the fact that this is well above the international average (19%) and the European average (24%). There is now a growing inclination among parents to choose magical institutions to further the magical education of their children - given the advantages of a well-rounded education over immediate specialization - but it remains to be seen if this method will ever be the norm." _

-Annual Report on Magical Education (1993) by the Department of Magical Education

The dull, throbbing ache in Gabriel's hand refused to go away and the fingers had swelled after hours of labor. The primal part of his mind was adverse to pain and screamed at him to stop writing; to rest for a while and let his sore skin recover. Still, he strove to ignore the pain, diligently scribbling on the half-filled sheet with his muggle pen. His notes were too important to be left incomplete.

Harry looked at his cousin struggle to transcribe with an amused expression. "You do realize you could save yourself the effort and just _charm _it into writing for you? Making your life easier is basically what charms are for, after all."

Gabriel's hand stilled, face flushed. He drew his wand, and, after taking a moment to recall the incantation and movement for object animation, cast the spell. The writing instrument responded immediately, standing straight at crisp attention before him. His eyes, almost on their own accord, shifted to his uncle, searching for a hint of approval.

"It could use some work." His face fell at the comment, watching the pen record the words spoken and misspelling a few as it did.

"Here, I'll fix it for you." Harry's wand appeared and he proved just why he was considered a master of the field. There were no words or fancy motions employed - just a single, light tap. The effect was slight, but noticeable. The pen stood even straighter and now had a slight tilt to its posture. "Is there a font you prefer?"

"Just plain print is fine." Gabriel watched the pen dance deftly across the page, no further errors appearing in its work. It wasn't surprising considering Charms had always beenhis uncle's forte.

"So, where was I?"

"Your lessons."

Harry's eyes became distant, a nostalgic smile gracing his lips. "Ah, yes…my dad had his hands full because of that. He hired my mum to teach me." He chuckled. "As you can imagine, your grandmother gave him hell for that."

Gabriel's curiosity peaked, having never met his paternal grandparents or his step-grandmother. "Can you tell me about them? Dad…he doesn't talk about them much."

"What do you want to know?"

* * *

**_16 October 1990_**

_"Please," Lily said, smiling brightly at the son she hadn't seen for seven years, "call me Miss Lily. It's a pleasure to meet you, Harry." _

"So tell me, what do you know about magic?" Lily asked.

"Well, you move your wand," Harry gave a demonstration, imperfectly mimicking a motion he'd seen his parents do countless times, "and say a Latin phrase, then magic happens."

Lily's laugh was warm and disarming with a melodious ring to it. It was different from the high-pitched, haughty laugh of his mother and the deep, friendly chortle his dad had.

"That's one way of looking at it. Magic is, above all else, a gift; one that allows ordinary people to do extraordinary things." Her willow wand was in her hand in an instant and a miniature dragon appeared on the table between them, snarling and biting at the air.

Harry's eyes grew wide with amazement as he watched the conjuration stretch its wings, before taking flight around the room. "Wow," he breathed out when the lizard spat out a small, relatively harmless fireball. "Can…can you teach me to do that?"

"In time. You've got to learn the basics before we get to that." Lily smiled sweetly. Harry could've sworn it was just his imagination, but her eyes seemed more…alive? "Which subject would you like to start with first, Charms or Transfiguration?"

He gave the question thought; weighing his decision with such care that one would think he was making a momentous, life-altering decision. "Charms?" he said, not all too certain.

Lily beamed at him, seeming ecstatic. "That's my mastery." she told him, sounding casual, yet there was a hint of excitement intertwined with her tone.

"Charms," Harry answered more confidently this time, nodding to himself.

"Well, the first charm they'll teach you in Hogwarts is the Levitation Charm." She demonstrated on an empty chair, going through the wand motions and incantation slowly for Harry's benefit. Harry copied her actions as well as he could while Lily watched him carefully, gently bringing his attention to the minute mistakes he made.

At last, she conjured a feather – making it look effortless - and placed it in front of him. Harry was not sure if his efforts were any good, but it was enough to proceed apparently.

"It's best to start simple." she said when he frowned at the offending object.

"Why?"

"A spell doesn't have to be cast perfectly to work properly, especially for simple tasks," Lily explained patiently. "The first step in learning a spell is to get a feel of the magic; perfection can come later."

"But…" he hesitated, unsure for a moment, before plowing forward, "if a spell does what it's supposed to already, why would anyone work harder than they needed to perfect it?"

"It's considered bad practice to work on a spell just so it's barely passable though. You tend to forget things if you don't work at them." There was a pause, before she added, "Plus, you never know when a situation might require a perfected spell."

"Oh." Harry bit his lip, wanting to ask more. Lily seemed to sense this and waited patiently for him to vocalize his thoughts. "What things affect a spell though?"

"We don't have the time to cover all of them now, but I can give you a book about it the next time we meet, if you like?"

Harry nodded eagerly. "That'd be great."

Lily nodded in return. "Now, get on with the Levitation Charm, and remember to put the stress on the 'O' not the 'Sa'."

The remainder of the two hour session passed quickly and Harry could honestly say he was a bit disappointed when their time was up. It was partly because he wanted to learn more magic; but partly because Ms. Lily was nice and pretty and supportive, unlike his mother, who had nothing but criticism for even his best attempts.

"So what do you usually do during your free time?" Lily asked as she held open the study's door.

"Usually I play Quidditch with my brother, Robert. I'm on the Godric's Hollow team, you know." said Harry with a grin, puffing out his chest like a peacock.

"What position do you play?" she asked, vague interest showing.

"Depends on what the Cap'n says. Seeker's my favorite, but I'm decent at Beating and Chasing." His easygoing smile turned into a grimace. "I hate playing Keeper. Being on the defensive is _so _boring."

"Do you have practice today?"

"Nah, practices are on Wednesday mornings and Friday afternoons." There was a moment's silence. "Do you like Quidditch, Ms. Lily?"

"I'm more of a spectator myself."

"That's great! I actually have a game next week against the Hogsmeade Hippogriffs, but dad can't make it because he's busy, and mother," -a look Harry couldn't quite distinguish flashed on her face- "well, mother doesn't like Quidditch."

"Would you like to go? I mean, only if you want to."

The speed with which she responded left no doubt she was eager. "I'd love to go."

* * *

That was the reason why Lily Evans found herself braving the chilly autumn morning winds of Cornwall on the elevated Millennium Stadium, which itself was a stone's throw away from the growing wizard district of Bodmin Moor. As expected of an amateur match, there weren't many people in the audience. Mostly, it was just parents of the players spread out among the more Quidditch-avid locals.

"Hullo there!"

The bench groaned in slight protest as a weight dropped beside her. Lily turned her head, a startling pair of grey eyes locking her in place. "The name's Joshua Bell," he said, a smile accompanying his extended hand.

"Lily," she replied, shaking his hand.

"Now comes the big question, Lions or Hippogriffs?" he began conversationally, the grin he wore never quite fading.

"Godric's Hollow Lions, of course." Lily gestured to the lion motif decorating the crimson Gryffindor scarf wrapped around her neck. It was convenient how well her old Hogwarts scarf matched the occasion perfectly.

Joshua withdrew an identical one from his robes. "Excellent. Then we can be friends." He nodded satisfactorily, as if judging her worthy. "If you don't mind me asking, what class are you?"

Lily supposed this was a "nicer" way of asking for her age. "Hogwarts Class of '78. You?"

"Class of '73. Funny thing is I don't remember ever seeing you at school."

"There were plenty of students at school," she pointed out. "I don't think you'd remember everyone. Besides, you had your OWLs and NEWTs to worry about."

"True, but a lady as stunning as you? I'm sure it would have made a lasting impression on me." This elicited a perfectly raised brow from Lily, who struggled to keep her lips still.

A sudden cheer erupted from the stands, signaling that the players had taken to the field. Joshua, in sync with his Gryffindor raucousness, joined in, loud and unabashed. The match was a series of haphazard passes, semi on-target Bludgers and failed shots, but the atmosphere remained lively and light, punctuated with encouraging cheers when a shot went in.

Joshua tugged at her sleeves excitedly. "That's my daughter!" he shouted over the crowd's roar of approval, pointing to the feminine figure that had just gotten the red, football-sized Quaffle past the Keeper.

Lily watched her play, noting she had some talent after her third goal in the span of a few minutes. "She's very good. What's her name?"

"Katie!"

Lily nodded, before a thought occurred to her. She glanced around, before asking, "Where's her mother?"

A pained look passed through his eyes and the smile he wore faltered. "She, um. Passed away, during the war."

"Oh." Lily replied, feeling awkward all of a sudden. "I'm sorry for your loss."

A moment of silence passed.

Strangely, she saw his ever-present grin threaten to break into a frown – a phenomenon she had thought impossible at this point. "Do you have anyone on the team?"

"Yeah!" She squinted, making out the familiar mop of black hair among the mass of flyers executing a fancy overhead pass. "That one! Harry Potter!"

"Your son?"

She hesitated. Harry's status as a bastard half-blood, while not a state secret, wasn't exactly something they liked to share with people. For one thing, there was a stigma on illegitimate children within the relatively small magical community. If there was one thing Lily knew as a muggleborn, it was that being discriminated by your peers didn't make for the most pleasant childhood.

On the other hand, she couldn't quite bear denying her own child. It felt too much like condemnation and betrayal. "I'm his tutor," she finally replied, deciding that the answer was a sufficiently ambiguous compromise.

His eyes seemed to gleam at that and his smile returned in full force. "Listen, a couple of the parents wanted to go grab a bite at Diagon afterwards. Do you want to come with?"

Naturally, she chose the option that would let her spend more time with her son, much to Joshua's delight.

The fact that the Lions lost (though it was a close game at 200-180) didn't deter them at all.

* * *

**_2 September 1990_**

James Potter decided he had not been in a situation this dangerous in quite a while. It was daunting to be alone with two angry, _armed_ witches who would not hesitate to do him bodily harm. The only saving grace he had was that they hated each other more than him…probably.

Maybe he should have rescheduled this meeting – more like a confrontation, in his unbiased opinion - on another date.

"Evans." Melissa greeted, not at all welcoming.

"Selwyn." Lily replied, tone clipped and measured.

The opening shots were exchanged in short bursts that left him with hope that all three would leave the room alive and generally unharmed…

"Its Potter now." sniped the smirking Selwyn.

…Never mind.

"Not really something to brag about," commented the redhead airily. James winced, stung by how nonchalantly she had just disregarded him.

The brunette's eyes narrowed into vicious slits. "Like you would know anything about that, whore!"

"Is that the best you can do, inbred? How's that son of yours?" She smiled in a sickeningly sweet manner. "Anything _odd _about him?"

Melissa scoffed, trying to pull off an air of indifference. It would have fooled them, had her trembling form not betrayed her. "At least he isn't a bas-"

"SHUT UP!" James exploded. "The both of you!" He shifted his glare towards Lily when he saw her smirk from the corner of his eye. "For Merlin's sake, can we please just talk about how Harry's education is going?"

"In the past month, Harry has shown progress in the three major fields – Charms, Transfiguration and Dueling. He has shown the most promise in Charms," she paused, no doubt to take delight in the disappointment James showed, before continuing,"being able to cast, with great proficiency, the Levitation, Wand-Lighting and Unlocking Charm. More importantly, he has begun to study on his own time the most basic principles of Charms and Spell theory."

"Does he understand it?" Melissa interjected.

Lily frowned. "Well, not yet." Melissa snorted and rolled her eyes. She might as well have poured oil on the fire known as Lily Evan's temper. "It's the fact that he's trying that's important!" she bristled. "Most children never start until-"

"Is that all? Three charms are all you've managed in the month we've given you?" Melissa made a show of sighing. "James dear, I told you this would be a waste. Why, I heard from my cousin that her daughter, the delightful little Hannah, managed a most excellent transfiguration last week."

"Let her finish with the report." The blue-eyed brunette harrumphed, crossing her arms. "His Transfiguration?" James asked, slightly hopeful.

"He's mastered the first exercise, matchstick into needle, but he needs more practice with changing the material and increasing the dimensions of his transfiguration. That said he is doing rather well. In Dueling, I haven't taught him too much, but he does have superb aim. He was able to hit moving targets with ease and we are going to work on his speed next."

James leaned into his chair with fingers steepled. "As his tutor, would you recommend, given his interest in Charms, that we arrange for an apprenticeship when he turns 11?"

"What?" both women said in chorus, shocked faces perfectly identical.

"Would you recommend we arrange for his apprenticeship over pursuing a formal education?" James rephrased calmly.

"What happened to Hogwarts?" Melissa demanded, looking perturbed.

James ignored his wife. "Lily, please answer the question."

"I, err, no." Lily shook her head to shake off, James suspected, the shock. "While Harry shows a greater interest in Charms, he hasn't expressed his decision to pursue a career in the field. Objectively, it doesn't seem like a good idea to deny him career flexibility at such a young age."

"What happened to Hogwarts?" Melissa repeated, refusing to let up. Lily continued to stare at him.

"I've given this a lot of thought over the past few weeks and I just don't think Hogwarts is right for my children."

The crease in Lily's forehead disappeared as realization dawned on her face. "This is about Snape, isn't it?"

"Maybe."

"Definitely Snape then."

Melissa alternated her gaze between the two, still confused. "What's this about Headmaster Snape?"

"Have you met the man?" James asked.

"Once or twice," she admitted, "he's a very…intense individual."

James snorted. "That's understating it. The man can hold a grudge. Bloody prick."

"Like you're one to talk, Potter," Lily said.

"Hey, I grew up!" Her stare of utter disbelief forced him to amend his statement. "Sort of."

"You were in the same batch as him?" Melissa asked. "And I'm guessing you didn't part on good terms?"

"We were never on good terms," corrected James.

"So now you're afraid he'd let his enmity affect his treatment of the children if we sent them to Hogwarts," Melissa said.

"I wouldn't put it past him."

Melissa narrowed her eyes. "Do you agree with this?" she asked Lily in a semi-civil tone.

Slowly, she nodded. "He's not one to let go so easily." She turned to James. "If Hogwarts and Apprenticeships are out, how about-"

"International schooling," Melissa interjected smoothly. "Beauxbatons and Durmstrang are good, second choices."

"Durmstrang it is," said James decisively.

"Why not Beauxbatons?" Lily's brows furrowed deep.

James scoffed, giving her a look that shouted "Are you serious?"

"They require children to start at the age of ten, at least. Something about mandatory etiquette classes. I don't need them to teach my children how to behave," Melissa said.

"And they're French," James added dryly, "do I need another reason?"

* * *

**_21 December 1990_**

"_Buongiorno_, Potter. Daphne." The Italian boy nodded to each in turn, before taking a look around. "Or I suppose it should be _buon natale_ now."

"_Buon Natale_?" mouthed Harry to Daphne, not all too clear on the term. She shrugged, either because she didn't know or didn't care to know; possibly both.

Blaise must have noticed their wordless conversation, because he rolled his eyes. "It means Merry Christmas."

"Right," said Daphne. "Why do you always mix Italian with English anyway?" His English was good, better than some natives even.

"Trying to get in touch with my roots, I suppose."

Harry snorted. "Come off it, Blaise."

"What? It's true!"

"We've heard you say like four things in Italian." Daphne pointed out, bringing a hand up to count off. "_Buongiorno, ciao, grazie_ and _boon natalie_."

"_Boon natalie?_" Blaise repeated incredulously. "It's _buon natale_, you dolt! 'sides, every time I add a word you guys do this all over again."

Daphne fluttered her lashes innocently. "Do what, Blaise?"

He glared. "You know what, Princess."

"I really don't," she insisted, brushing a lock of gold behind her ear.

"Yes you do!"

"No, I don't!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

Harry, happy to watch them go at it, leaned into his chair when he noticed a certain someone stranding beside him. "Hey Harry." Lavender said softly, twirling a loose strand of hair that reached just below her shoulder.

"Hi Lavender." Harry stood to give her a small hug. "Merry Christmas!" When they parted, there was a bit of red on her cheeks.

"How long have they been at it?" she asked, nodding towards their two friends, who somehow had managed to throw in a "Hey Lavender!" in the middle of their fight.

"They just started, so this could take a while. How have you been?"

Lavender grinned widely. "Got my wand yesterday!"

"That's great! Have you tried anything with it?"

"Does shooting colored sparkles at someone count?"

"Well," Harry stroked his chin, "it is Christmas after all. I suppose I could consider it." She slapped him playfully on the arm, before turning to watch the show.

"-don't want your gift then?"

"Now Blaise," the shift in Daphne's tone between critical and charming was instantaneous, "you know you're my best friend, right?"

Lavender pouted. "I thought I was your best friend."

The blonde waved her away. "He's my best _guy _friend. Completely different."

"What am I supposed to be then?" Harry deadpanned.

"The other friend." Daphne laughed when he crossed his arms, indignant, before she turned to Blaise. "Gift. Now."

He rummaged through his pack for a couple of rectangular packets and handed both Lavender and Harry one each. Then, he looked through it again, before carefully lifting out a hexagonal thing, carefully wrapped in green foil.

Lavender eyed the gift in her hands. "What do you think it is?" she whispered to Harry.

"Too small to be a magazine." He weighed it in his hands experimentally. "Honeydukes chocolate? And since Daphne got the odd-shaped one he picked out specifically, I'd say hers is special. Maybe the new mint flavored one."

"Why do you think Daphne got Honeydukes like us? It could be something else."

Harry gave her a pointed look. "Because Blaise always gives us different kinds of the same thing for Christmas. It's his thing." He reached for the knapsack handing behind his chair and pulled out a palm-sized purse mirror. "Err, sorry it isn't wrapped. I couldn't figure out how to do circles."

"It's fine, Harry." She examined the sleek, silver exterior curiously. "What is it?"

"Ms. Lily, my tutor, said it was a vanity mirror." He shrugged, having no idea what that meant. "I guess it's charmed to give you advice or something?"

"That's probably it," she agreed.

Harry handed out the rest of his gifts (Daphne got a nice, leather-bound diary with her initials embossed in front and he gave Blaise a Travel Guide) and received his in turn (the two latest editions of Quidditch Weekly, which suggested the girls had planned this). After all this was done, they still had half an hour until Mrs. Bridgemoot, their supervisor, would return with the floo powder.

Blaise ended up being the one to instill some excitement into the room. "How about some magic?"

"You know we're not supposed to," Lavender said, biting her lip.

Daphne's head bobbed in agreement. "We could get in trouble."

"We'll be fine. Besides if anything does happen, we can go get Mrs. Bridgemoot," said Blaise. "You in, Potter?"

"You're on, Zabini."

"Daphne?" The dark-skinned boy peered at her. "Come on, what's a little friendly competition? It's not as if we're going to be Dueling."

"Fine," she gave in, "but if we get in trouble, I'm blaming you."

Blaise rolled his eyes. Typical Daphne Greengrass. "Lavender?"

"I reckon she should be the judge." Harry said and Lavender shot him a grateful look. "Need someone who's fair, right."

"Fair enough. Ladies first?"

"Watch and learn boys." Daphne placed a quill on the table they had circled around and drew her wand in an exaggerated fashion, before drawing an invisible pattern on the desk that Harry strongly doubted was an actual spell-casting movement. "_Motus exemplar_!"

Some unseen force dragged the unfortunate writing device across the surface by its tip, the faint lines sketching a rough, star-like shape. It repeated this twice before the quill keeled over, flopping around like a fish out-of-water.

Blaise tried not to sound impressed when he said "Is that all?" but his eyes showed a different story. He stared at the quill intently.

"Sometime today would be great." Daphne teased after a minute passed. Zabini's eyes narrowed, but his singular focus remained on the quill. His hand was in motion before she could get another jibe in and it ended in a sharp, jab that transformed the feather into the model of an eagle with a steel beak. He handed it to Harry with a proud smirk, confident in his victory.

Harry looked over the figure critically, paying particular attention to the wings. "Give the feathers a bit more spruce next time."

Confidence morphed into confusion. "What?"

Harry's reply came in two parts: the first a light tap that caused the forelimbs to stretch and spread; the second was an elegant twirl that ended in a flick. Splashes of color washed over the figure in waves, giving it a picturesque quality. The final product was an eagle in midflight with a lifelike feel to it, if it wasn't for the stillness.

"Not bad." Blaise whistled. Daphne nodded mutely.

Harry tentatively picked it up, presenting it to Lavender as if it was a crown jewel. "If I'm being fair," she began, "Blaise's transfiguration tops both of yours."

"It should," agreed Harry, "he's been studying the longest after all."

Blaise didn't let the remark ruin his mood.

* * *

**_18 February 1991 _**

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Come in!" Harry called out, though he didn't look up from his book. He heard the door swing open and the sound of shuffling feet. "Yes, Rob?"

"How did you know it was me?"

Harry offered a small smile. "Mother calls before coming in, and Dad doesn't knock."

"Huh, I never noticed before." Robert said, scratching his head. "Watcha readin'?"

"_Perfecting Your Spell _by Heifer."

He could see Robert frown from the corner of his eye. "Heifer? That's it?"

"It's a pen name."

"Oh…is it any good." Harry hummed in response. "So how do you perfect it? Your spell, I mean?"

Harry marked the page he was on, deciding that it was a good time for a break. "Well, there are a lot of things that affect it. You've got the spell-specific factors, like how the wand motion, the incantation and how well you understand the magic behind it."

"Makes sense."

"Then you've got the general factors that affect all spells, not just a specific one," continued Harry. "They split this one between Understanding of Magic-"

"Wait, hold up." Robert's brows furrowed. "You just said that understanding magic was a spell-specific thing."

Harry stood up to stretch his cramped muscles. "No, no, the first one is about the understanding the magic behind the spell itself. _This _is about how well you understand magic in general."

"I don't get it."

Harry sighed, trying to come up with an example. "It's like…Quidditch, I guess?"

"Okay?"

"Specific understanding is like knowing when to pass and when to shoot. General understanding would be understanding the roles of Chasers and Seekers and how each is important to winning."

"You mean like when the Cap'n starts talking about player goals?"

"Exactly like that," Harry said. "Next is mindset which includes smartness, willpower, creativity and similar things. The book basically lists all these things and explains the differences, as well as the importance of each."

"Sounds…boring."

Harry snorted. "Tell me about it. But I promised Ms. Lily I'd give her back the book soon."

"Oh." Rob sounded disappointed. "Do you...do you like Ms. Lily?"

"Yeah, she's really nice!" Harry said with a grin. "And she's smart. You'd like her. Want to meet her on Tuesday?"

"D' you think that'd be alright?"

"I don't see why it wouldn't." Harry scratched his head. "Any reason you're being so curious today?"

Rob suddenly found the floor quite remarkable. "I just wanted to spend some time with you. You've been so busy lately."

"No I haven't." Harry said on impulse. Then again, he had requested more weekly session after the New Year. It wasn't uncommon for him to have three to four of them nowadays. Between this, the Youth Center and his readings, the only time Harry and Rob spent time was during meals and Quidditch practice – a big difference from the previous year. He must've been bored out of his mind with all that free time.

"I won't even get to see you next year when you're at Hogwarts." Rob despaired.

"Sorry," Harry said sheepishly, "I guess I just got caught up in all the work. How about we go play some Quidditch right now?" He was mostly done with the book and it _was _a Sunday.

"Can you teach me how to do the reverse pass?"

* * *

Before Lily knew it, it was Tuesday already and she walked into the study, not expecting to find two boys instead of one.

"Morning Ms. Lily!" Harry greeted cheerily.

Lily raised a brow at him. "You're here early."

"I wanted you to meet my brother, Robert." A small wave accompanied Robert's shy smile.

"Oh. Um, hello Robert." She cleared her throat. "Would you, er, like to stay for today's lesson? You might find it interesting. Your brother's starting on basic animations."

He glanced at Harry for approval before answering. "If…if that's ok?"

"As long as you don't disturb Harry's work, I can allow it." Lily turned to Harry. "I need to tell you something by the way. Your dad was supposed to do it, but he had to go to Switzerland for a Transfiguration Summit."

James Potter was a well-renowned expert in human transfiguration and he had to make trips like this at least twice a year, from what she had gathered.

"What about?"

"After talking things through, your dad and I think it's best if you go to Durmstrang." She waited for the outburst.

And waited…"You're not surprised." she said, surprised.

Harry tilted his head to the side. "I kinda knew already. Uncle Sirius has been rambling about how great Durmstrang was and the differences between the three schools all of last month."

"The last time he went on like that, we were going to get sent to the Centers for the first time," Robert added.

"And you don't really care you're not going to Hogwarts?" Lily asked.

Harry shook his head slowly. "Hogwarts sounds great, but Uncle Sirius made Durmstrang sound pretty awesome too."

"They speak German there." Lily stated.

"There's a spell to help with that."

"How did you know?"

Harry and Robert shared a look. "Mrs. Bridgemoot," they chimed together.

"Your supervisor from the center?" she asked, vaguely remembering him mention it in passing. "Do you just ask her everything?"

"Pretty much." Robert said. "She tells us everything we want to know."

* * *

**_2 April 1991 _**

"This is bloody outrageous!" Lily swore uncharacteristically, drawing curious looks from her companion. "Necessary education indeed!" She threw down her innocent copy of the Daily Prophet onto the table with excessive force.

Alice Longbottom snuck a peek at the offending newspaper, searching for some hint as to the source of her friend's outburst. "Ministry to impose Necessary Education Act." she murmured to herself. "Children gifted with magic are henceforth required to undergo proper training to hone their abilities."

She frowned at the paper, sliding it closer to get a better angle. "I don't see anything particularly wrong with it."

"What happens to muggleborn kids who don't want to join the magical world?" Lily asked, an ugly scowl marring her normally fine features.

"Who in their right mind would refuse magic?" The very suggestion was preposterous! "And I suppose they'd be made to attend anyways. I mean, they won't be able to counter compulsions without training."

"So how do you stop them from running away in case the compulsion fails or when they manage to break it over the summer?"

"Oh!" Her eyes turned grew into saucers as the implication hit her. "They…they wouldn't dare use the Imperius on children, right?" asked Alice. Lily knew her friend well enough to know that the argument sounded weak even to her.

"It's either that, memory charms to make them forget about their parents so they'd have no one to run to, or placing tracers and hunting down runaways." Alice looked ill suddenly.

"It's 1982 all over again."

Alice remained deathly quiet.

"They trapped us." Lily gritted her teeth. "The Ministry, the Death Eaters, the 66 Signatories, and those thrice damned _Protocols_ of theirs."

"This world will be a prison for them." she declared with finality, grim and ominous.

* * *

**_12 June 1991_**

"What's it like, living in the Muggle World?" was a question Lily Evans had never heard in her thirty years of living. She never considered anyone would be interested. It never even crept into her head when she was thinking of hypothetical life scenarios.

So when Harry James Potter asked, she was taken aback.

"It's very different from that magical one. Children there start going to school when they're five."

"Five?" Disbelief colored his tone.

"Yup. And all the chores around the house have to be done by hand too. My parents always made my sister and I do them."

He made a face. "That sounds terrible."

"Well, it did have its perks."

"You mean like watching the tully!"

"The telly," she corrected. "I guess Uncle Sirius told you about that?"

"A little bit. He called it a magic mirror that was charmed to show you things from around the world and some people would dress up and do plays in them. Oh, he also said muggles had a magic called electicity."

Lily briefly pondered whether she should engage in a discussion about electricity, but decided she wasn't in the mood to play twenty questions today.

"That sounds really cool." There was a pause. "Do you think you could show me the muggle world one day?"

Lily considered it. "Ask your dad on your birthday."

* * *

One's eleventh birthday, as it turned out, was a very big deal in their society. It was a loud, crowded affair and Harry had never been more thankful towards the inventor of the interior expansion charm. Close to a hundred people had invaded their home, most of whom Harry had never met, yet they all seemed to know who he was.

"I don't think I've ever seen this many people in one place. Outside of Diagon Alley that is," Harry said to Sirius, who was eyeing his purple-hued drink distastefully.

"This is nothing. You should see some of the sweet seventeens." Sirius took a sip, and immediately grimaced at the taste. Harry laughed at his expense. "I hate grapes. Your 17th party is going to be like this, but with more people your age and booze. Uh, don't tell your parents I said that."

"Sure, what about Ms. Lily?"

Harry wasn't sure why, but his Uncle turned even whiter than his already pasty complexion. "Especially Ms. Lily." He let out a heavy sigh. "Too bad Moony couldn't make it."

"Moony? That's a funny name." Harry tried to spot some familiar faces in the crowd, to little avail. "Is he one of your friends from work?"

"Moony was your uncle Remus' nickname when we were still in Hogwarts."

Harry accepted the answer without prying further. He had long come to terms with the fact that his dad and his friends had weird tastes when it came to nicknames. "He went away to teach, right?"

"In Bulgaria," Sirius answered. "Which reminds me, he wanted me to tell you that his gift would be arriving in the mail later today. The courier owls over there aren't quite up to British standards."

They continued to watch people from their corner of the room. Occasionally, a few strangers would come up to greet him a happy birthday. Very occasionally, they'd hand him a present.

"Harry!" two girly voices he was well-acquainted with squealed. Lavender was the first to envelope him in a lung-crushing hug. Daphne's, thankfully, posed less of a threat to his internal organs. At this point, his beloved uncle had left him to go chat up a fair looking witch on the other side of the room.

They were followed by a "_Salve, _Potter" spoken in soft baritone.

"Your vocab's growing bigger, Zabini." Harry said.

"Well, _someone _gave me a 'Dummy's Guide to Italian' for my birthday." He shot Daphne – who looked completely unrepentant - a pointed look. "I'd rather my grasp on _Italiano _not be questioned again."

"Can't believe your finally eleven, Harry." Lavender said.

"It's about time too. 'lil Harry's all grown up." Daphne wiped a crocodile tear from her eye.

A matching grin passed between them. "Are you guys thinking what I'm thinking?" Blaise started, as tradition dictated.

"One more game then," Harry said on cue.

"I guess I should give you guys another chance to top me. Not that you will, of course." Daphne smirked. She was in the lead over both boys by a half-point after she tied with Lavender the last time.

"You're going to eat your words." Lavender was already on her way to Harry's room.

Soon, the four of them – plus Robert to judge – were gathered around Harry's study table. They placed a match in the middle then Robert gestured for Lavender to start. Her choice was to transfigure it into a simple, not-quite-living bonsai tree.

"Does that count as semi-animate transfiguration?" Harry asked, peering at it. "I don't think it's alive."

"Dead tree isn't quite the same thing as _a_ tree," Daphne answered. "Doesn't count."

Daphne's work was executed with a sharp, twisting move that killed any hope for the tree being alive. Her charm began to take effect from the roots, and they watched, entranced, as veins of biting hoarfrost crept along the entirety of the tree, bathing it in crystalline glory.

"Got a few cracks in your ice sculpture, princess," Blaise teased.

She glared. "Go on then. Let's see you top my freezing charm."

"_Piacere mio_!" Harry guessed it meant something along the lines of "my pleasure". It did manage to make the blonde's glare all the more intense. "Blink and you'll miss it," he warned, his wand already beginning a slow, upward arc. Without warning, he swiped down, akin to a commander beckoning his army forward with a saber.

"_Incendio_!" Azure tongues lashed out from the tip, just as it reached the top of the frozen plant. The heat was concentrated enough to both melt and vaporize ice and trunk, leaving nothing but dancing fire for a few precious seconds.

Harry, recognizing his window of opportunity slipping, acted immediately by catching the fire with his own wand to ensure it wouldn't die. Most of the base material had burned already, leaving him little to work with. Transfiguration of plasma into a solid or liquid was also out of the question. Such a feat would be closer to conjuration than transfiguration, and he was far from capable of that either.

The answer, as always, turned out to be in Charms. Hours of study and dedicated practice paid off as he placed the dying flames within the most basic stasis charm to buy him more time and temporarily free his wand for the next part of his task.

"_Vita locomotor_!" he jabbed the fire swiftly; once, twice - the strain on his mind increased with each attempt. Third time's the charm, as the saying goes, and Harry felt assured he had gotten it right with his final stab.

Animating an already animate object was several degrees more challenging than animating inanimate things. Fire, having a lifelike quality, but no impulses, fell in between the two.

It morphed first into a cocoon of harsh, flickering maroon, before changing its form into that of a phoenix with wings wide and free. The fiery construct hovered aimlessly, seeming to enjoy the attention from its captive audience. The rhythmic up and down of limbs left afterimages, coating the air in red.

The phoenix nosedived abruptly, pulling up at the last second before it hit the table. The imitation of the Wronski-Feint made Robert clap approvingly. The lap it did around the table before fading away seemed more of a victory lap and less an effort for last-minute points. Harry flicked away the beads of sweat streaming down his nape.

Lavender had to pick up her jaw. "Well, no way what we did topped that."

Blaise patted his back. "You're going to show those upstart mudbloods their place when you get to Hogwarts."

"Um, yeah. About that." Harry scratched the back of his head. "I'm not going to Hogwarts." Lavender's smile did a complete 180.

"It was my parents' choice," he said weakly, edging backwards.

"Beauxbatons or Durmstrang?" Blaise asked. He seemed unperturbed by the situation. Happy, even.

"Durmstrang."

"Yes!"

Daphne spun towards him so quickly her neck nearly snapped. "Wait, you too?"

His glee died a painful death, murdered by Daphne Greengrass's glare.

"How long have you two kept this from us?" Lavender's face promised painful retribution if their reply was not to her liking.

"…"

"Unbelievable!"

* * *

_"On this thirtieth of August, in the year 1982, I, James Charlus Potter, Head of House Potter, do hereby agree to uphold, to the best of my abilities, the points set forth below:_

_I. __To promote and propagate the ideals of blood purity  
__II. __To swear allegiance to the Ministry of Magic and the ideals it rests on  
__III. __To support the Ministry of Magic's actions, whatever they may be  
__IV. __To protect the sovereignty of British Wizards, in part and in whole, during times of both peace and war  
__V. __To maintain the hierarchy of our most glorious society  
__VI. __To produce an heir befitting of the my line, in both blood and magic  
__VII. __To do my duty as a member of society and as a practitioner of my craft_

_On my House and Line, I do so swear."_

- _Purity Protection Protocols, Pledge of the Signatories, 1982_


	3. A Visit to Vienna

**Chapter 3: A Visit to Vienna**

_"The possibilities with magic are endless and Charms are the best way to actualize that." _

Gabriel stared out the window into the black canvas above, a million millions splattered onto it by some unseen painter's brush. They glittered in the sky like jewels, heedless of Vienna's city lights.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

"Yes," Gabriel said, "I haven't seen this many stars since Durmstrang."

Harry, now standing beside him, chuckled. "The glass is charmed to ignore light pollution. A shame really, muggles don't know what they're missing." He tapped the screen with his wand, and the stars were swallowed by the darkness.

"The sky seems so dull without the stars." Gabriel said, a tad bit mournfully.

Harry stared at the window itself, not the outside, critically. He swished at it experimentally, and heavenly light burst into view once more, this time with faint blue strands highlighting the constellations. "Ah, haven't worked out all the kinks with this model. You wouldn't believe how annoying it can be to weave in partial obfuscation charms."

"Sir!"

Gabriel nearly jumped, turning around to see his aunt pointing a wand at him, or at the very least, his aunt's look-alike. There were two things that made him doubt she was really his aunt. First, she was drawing a wand on him. Second, his aunt _never _called anyone "sir".

"Stand down, darling. It's only my nephew." Harry gave the newcomer an exasperated look. "And how many times have I told you to call me by name? 'Sir' is a dead giveaway that you aren't who you are."

The blonde blushed and she slipper her wand back into her robes. "Yes sir-Harry. Will your nephew-"

"Gabriel," provided Gabriel.

"-Gabriel be staying the night?" she finished without missing a beat.

"If…if that's alright?" Gabriel said, glancing uncertainly at Harry.

"Perfect." Harry nodded imperiously to the doppelganger, sending her away. "She makes a schnitzel you wouldn't believe," he stage whispered.

Gabriel's eyes were locked onto the retreating backside of his not-aunt. "Who was that?"

"My new Jaeger bodyguard, supposedly. More likely they want me to polish her."

"Is she under polyjuice?"

"Better, a metamorphmagus, albeit inexperienced." Gabriel whistled appreciatively. Natural shapeshifters were few and far between even in the magical world.

"This body of mine isn't what it used to be, I'm afraid." Harry said in wistful recollection. "Can't go around picking fights anymore."

"Your aging…what caused it?" Gabriel asked, the gnawing curiosity in his gut breaking free. It had been on his mind since he got here.

He regretted it immediately when the relaxed demeanor melted into the indifferent one his uncle normally wore. "I, I'm sorry…is this too personal?"

"I'll answer this another time, Gabriel. I do not like remembering that particular…indiscretion." Harry said. "Have I ever told you of my first time in Vienna?"

The sound of his magically automated quill scratching on paper continued well throughout the night.

* * *

**_31 July 1991_**

"_Unbelievable!"_

Lavender was _shaking_. Harry averted his eyes, desperate to escape her melting stare. Robert's back was pressed against the door, torn between curiosity and fear. He looked ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble.

"Why?" Daphne asked, addressing more Blaise than Harry.

"Mom thinks it's time to 'broaden my horizons'." Blaise said nonchalantly. "She's tired of British men, I guess." It wasn't a secret that his mother was a gold digger. "And in my defense, I only found out last week. There wasn't really a good time to share the news."

"Ok." The fact that her frown did not let up at all indicated she felt anything but. She turned to Harry next, offering him a brow that practically shouted "And you?"

"Apparently, my dad and the Headmaster of Hogwarts aren't on good terms."

It would have been more dramatic to say her frown deepened, but at this point, it was impossible to fall any further. "That's a stupid reason."

Harry shrugged his shoulders.

"Why didn't you tell us sooner?" Lavender's voice came out strained and harsh, a mix of betrayal and pain lingering beneath.

Harry felt his throat constrict. A bit more and it would choke him. Great, even his own body was trying to off him now. "Well…I, uh…"He swallowed thickly. "Honestly, I…I was afraid you guys wouldn't…"

"Wouldn't what?" Daphne prodded, clamping down on his answer like an alligator.

"Wouldn't want to…to be friends anymore."

The stinging on his skin disappeared along with the harshness of Lavender's stare. "Why on earth would you think that?" she said. Harry felt stupid all of a sudden. "We've been friends for ages! Going to different schools isn't going to change that."

"That's right." Daphne said. "Besides, we'll still see each other loads of times! Like, on summer break, and Easter and Christmas." She must have caught on to the worried look the boys shared, because she followed up with, "What are you two hiding?"

"You tell her," Blaise seemed to say with his eyes.

Harry made a gesture that was supposed to mean "No you", but Blaise didn't appear to understand. He was never really any good at charades.

"One of you tell me. Right now." Daphne said.

Blaise cracked first. "Well, the school schedules don't exactly match up, but the difference isn't that big, honest!"

"How bad?" Daphne asked.

"Our year starts off a week later, and summer break starts on the fifteenth."

"The fifteenth? Of June?" Lavender asked.

"August," clarified Blaise.

Lavender didn't look happy about that. "Your summer break lasts less than a month? That's sounds terrible!" She was positively appalled by the very idea.

Daphne tsked, shaking her head sympathetically. "Your parents are sadists."

* * *

"You see awfully chipper. Good day?" asked Joshua.

Lily positively hummed in response. "It's Harry's birthday today." She brought the ladle to her lips, letting a bit of soup in. It needed the dash of salt she put in. She looked at the saltshaker contemplatively then gave it another shake for good measure.

"How was it?"

"Great, Harry asked James if he could visit the muggle world. The look on Melissa's face was priceless!"

"I can imagine," Joshua said, the smile he wore evident from his voice alone. "Did he say yes?"

Lily walked into the dining room, a trail of plates and utensils floating behind her obediently. "Not as if he could say no on Harry's birthday of all days."

"True." He uncorked a bottle of alcohol, pouring in a hefty amount of the light, pink liquid into a pair of flute glasses. "When's he going?" The only reason he was concerned, Lily knew, was because she promised to go with Harry to explain the muggle world.

"This August. They're planning a trip to Austria for a month, and I'm supposed to join them during their last week. I'm guessing sometime then."

"Austria?" Joshua was surprised. The country, a former member of Grindelwald's _Reich-Staaten,_ wasn't exactly a popular destination for the British. "Why Austria?"

Lily directed the last pot onto the table. "They wanted to give Harry a bit of time to practice his German before school starts."

"Then why not Germany?" asked Joshua, which earned him a quirked brow. "Never mind, stupid question." The only country less popular than Austria would've been Germany, given they were the first to join Grindelwald's crusade.

Joshua handed her a glass and she took a sip of the drink. "Mmm, what are we celebrating?" Lily asked.

"What makes you think that?"

"The rose champagne." She swirled the liquid before taking another sip. "You never bother with anything this fancy unless something is up."

"Two weeks with my gorgeous girlfriend isn't reason enough?" His suggestive smile triggered a brief memory where he had casually mentioned Katie was spending the next couple of days at a friend's house.

Lily snorted. "Eat your food."

Joshua smiled cheekily. "Yes ma'am."

* * *

**_1 August 1991_**

It was a quiet, normal morning for the Potter residence.

"Harry! Robert!" Of course, quiet and normal were relative terms. Melissa's voice was shrill and piercing, killing any possibility of sleep. "Better finish up soon! The portkey leaves in an hour!"

"Like this isn't the hundredth time you've reminded us." Harry said grumpily to himself. She was, thankfully, out of earshot. Finally certain he wasn't missing anything - having combed through the things on his bed twice now – he flourished his wand in the general direction of his bed. "_Pack._" he commanded. Like soldiers, each item floated up, forming a neat line before proceeding to deposit themselves neatly into his expandable rucksack.

Ms. Lily's gift of _Versatile Variations _was the last thing to enter the already stuffed bag when he heard Melissa from the doorway. "Harry, good, at least you're done." she was exasperated and very much stressed. "Be a dear and help Robert out? I swear that father of yours is worse than a child with the way he puts off things!" Her voice already sounded far away, no doubt to fuss over some other detail.

Harry tested the weight of his pack with his hand then slung the straps across his shoulders. Thankfully, it wasn't too heavy, even if there was no Featherweight Charm placed on it.

He found Robert in his room. The sight was not pretty.

"Harry!" exclaimed Robert, perhaps a little too happily, "Err, help? Please?" He had this sheepish expression on his face as he scratched the back of his head.

"What happened here? It looks like your closet threw up." It wasn't a hyperbole either. All manners of robes, undershirts, cloaks, footwear and headwear lay strewn across the floor, whereas the cabinet which should have been containing them was empty. "Twice," Harry said, as he kicked at a scarf near his foot.

Robert blushed and ducked his head. "I couldn't decide what to bring…so I tried to fit everything in my bag."

Harry stared at him. "Well course it wouldn't fit. You're not supposed to bring everything."

"Why not? Mum's bag can fit loads of things!"

"Mum's bag is charmed to be limitless," Harry pointed out. "Yours isn't."

Robert frowned at him. "Well, we'll be gone. For thirty days." he said meaningfully.

Harry sighed heavily. "Just bring a few pairs and cycle through them. We can get 'em cleaned there."

"Are you sure?"

"Worse comes to worst, mother will just buy you new clothes. Now, pick out a few sets. 5's enough, 7's better."

Harry glanced at the wall clock hanging over his brother's bed, noting that they had forty minutes left. Their mother's words were becoming more frantic and panicked as the short hand drew closer to 8. "Not that one." Harry said offhandedly when Robert considered a gaudy robe patterned with giant golden lions.

"What 'cha think it'll be like? Austria, I mean." Robert set aside the clothes he had decided on in a not so neat pile.

"Small, I imagine; a lot less crowded too. Uncle Sirius said they only had 6,000 people."

"Only 6,000?" repeated Robert skeptically. "Oh, here. All done!"

Harry glanced disapprovingly as his brother grabbed the mish-mashed pile and tried to dump it into his backpack. "You'll never get it in like that." Normally, he would let his brother work this out himself, but they were short on time today. "Pack." he said, watching magic expedite the process. "That should do it. C'mon."

They made their way down the stairs to see their dad effortlessly balancing a trunk on his head, their mother rolling her eyes at him. "There you two are." She gestured for them to grab onto a length of rope. "James, don't forget to lock down the house."

Harry watched intently while James began waving his wand in a series of wide sweeping motions, all the while chanting something under his breath.

Satisfied with his work, James nodded to himself before wrapping one end of the portkey around his hand. "3, 2, 1."

The world melted away.

Or at the very least, that's what it seemed like. In actuality, the high velocity rotation left their sight blurry.

Harry heard the change in scenery before he saw it, really. The howling of wind was replaced by distinct (if incomprehensible), guttural sounds. It was German, Harry realized, yet it wasn't as harsh as he'd been led to believe. In fact, the intonation was almost musical even.

Harry blinked a couple of times, refocusing his eyes.

Humble - that was the nicest way to describe the Austrian Ministry. It had none of the marble columns or the grandiose statues that were the prominent features of its British counterpart. Instead, in the atrium below them, was a solitary stone tablet. If you squinted, you could make out an extremely long word in simple print - _"Vergangenheitsbewältigung"_.

"_Willkommen_ in _Ö__sterreich_!" a voice greeted warmly.

Harry shifted his attention to a mustached, official-looking fellow who was eyeing them appraisingly. "English, yes?" the official asked.

"Yes," James replied, nodding emphatically. "James Potter."

"Ah! _Herr_ Potter. We've been expecting you. This way please." There was a slight accent to his English, but it was otherwise easily understandable. He led them to his desk, one of two that dealt with international portkey arrivals. From the looks of things, they didn't get much traffic as the other official on duty, a bored twenty-something year old, scurried over eagerly.

The two engaged in a conversation of rapid German that even James, who knew the most German in the family, looked utterly lost. The first official noticed and waved away his associate. Clearing his throat, he shot them an apologetic smile. "Sorry for that, Tomas is new to the job and you're the first tourists he's seen."

"No problem." James replied.

"So, Herr Potter, how long is your family staying in _Ö__sterreich_?"

"Until the 22nd, three weeks." The official, Bruno according to his nametag, jotted down that information.

"Purpose of visit?"

"Vacation and maybe a bit of shopping. My son's going to Durmstrang this September." James told him proudly.

Bruno smiled knowingly. "Ah, my nephew just graduated last year! I would recommend getting winter coats with at least grade three warming charms. The weather can be brutal. Alright everything seems to be in order…I just need to check your wands."

"Thanks! We'll look into that." James said as he handed over his. Harry and Melissa's followed.

"Do you have anywhere to stay?" James made a negative gesture. "No matter, though I would recommend looking for a place at Versteckt Plaza – that's our main shopping district." Bruno returned the wands after a customary check. "Alright, everything seems in order, Herr Potter. I just need your portkey and you can be on your way. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"Uh, just one thing." James handed over the string of rope. "We were told we could get someone to cast the Language Charm?"

"Ah, you want the AIMZ. Take the elevator, which should be down this hallway. Fourth floor, second door on the right."

James smiled. "_Danke_." he said, leading them away.

"Enjoy your stay in _Ö__sterreich_!" Bruno called out, just before the lift shut close.

The _Abteilung für Internationale Magische Zusammenarbeit _– the Department of International Magical Cooperation in English – was a step up from the Office of International Arrivals in terms of décor and size. "Wicked!" the boys chorused, seeing the slowly rotating, multi-colored globe that was the rotunda's centerpiece.  
Harry, grinning, nudged the wide-eyed Robert in the side. "Check that out." Robert looked down to see a painted siren, gracefully circling around their feet. His eyes, if even possible, grew more. It appeared to giggle - though no sound reached their ears – before joining her sisters on the domed ceiling. "Boys, keep up!" James was already a few meters ahead, holding open a door. The door, it turned out, was the office of an ancient, gnarly witch with graying tresses. She and James exchanged a few words, before she signaled Harry to come closer with her wrinkled hand.  
"Level 2," she said, voice completely flat, "costs 51 Florints and 4 Thalers." While James was busy counting out the golden, octagonal Florints and the silver Thalers, the witch, who smelled faintly of incense, muttered under her breath and circled her wand over Harry's head. The charm ended with a painful jab to his forehead. Harry recoiled on instinct, eyes blinking rapidly. He shuffled backwards, head feeling like lead. Robert placed a worried hand on his back to keep him from falling over. "You might feel strange for a few days. That's perfectly normal." the witch said, sounding unfazed by his reaction. "For best effect, try to talk in German as much as possible." It took a few minutes for him to get his blinking under control, and he felt his dad's smooth palms on his own, guiding him forward. By the time he could see again, the world was different. He found himself listening into snippets of overhead conversation as they waited in line to use the floo, although he didn't understand most of what they said. "Alright there, Harry?" James asked.  
"Yes," Harry answered and James grinned. Robert frowned at the two. His response of "What" sounded foreign to Harry's ears. It suddenly clicked why his dad was smiling like that. His dad had talked to him in German, and he understood without even realizing it. "That does feel strange," said Harry, making sure he was speaking in English. "You get used to it." James stepped up when the couple in front was swallowed whole by the swirling green flames. "Hello. Four für Versteckt Platz, bitte." he said to the person selling floo powder. It was a little disconcerting to get only half of what was being said. "One Thaler und drei Staatenmark, sir."

James gave him a silver piece and three bronze squares with a hole through the middle in exchange for a handful of the fine powder. The Potter family made it to the place without incident.

From the moment Harry walked out of the fireplace, he could see how Versteckt was different from Diagon Alley. Diagon, with shops on either side, was a cramped, narrow and winding street way on the best of days and simply a chaotic, unnavigable mass during the back-to-school shopping rush. Versteckt, on the other hand, was a plaza characterized by its spacious quarters and the Austrian need for order.

Their obviously English appearance drew stares from some passersby. It made Harry self-conscious all of a sudden, as if he was being judged worthy of entrance.

"Well." James cleared his throat amidst the conspicuous glances. "How does lunch sound? I'm famished."

* * *

**_19 August 1991_**

"I'm going to miss you." Joshua's breathy words were ticklish to her neck.

Lily rolled her eyes, but could not stop the faint smile from showing. It felt nice to be wanted for a change. "It's just four days."

"Mmm." He continued to nuzzle her hair. "Four days too long." Joshua kept fistful of her robes in a possessive grip. "Are you sure you can't just skip? We could be doing so much productive things at home."

"With Katie there? I'd rather not traumatize the girl, thank you very much."

"Silencing Charms were invented for a reason, luv."

Lily snorted. "Her dad locks himself in his bedroom with a lady. You might as well just hang a sock on the doorknob."

Joshua pulled apart slightly, frowning at her. "She shouldn't know what that means yet."

"Oh honestly Joshua, she's eleven! I knew what that meant when I was her age."

"You're making me worried for her innocence."

Lily pecked him on the cheek. "I'll bring you back a chastity belt." Joshua sulked and Lily laughed. "I'm just teasing."

"Ahem."

The two broke apart reluctantly to address the newcomer. "Peter?" Lily asked.

"Hi Lily," the mousy man squeaked. "Err, got the portkey for you."

"Oh! Thanks Peter. This is Joshua, my boyfriend."

Joshua extended a hand towards him, which Peter shook vigorously. "Nice to meet you. Are you a friend of Lily's?"

"Of a sorts." He fiddled with his fingers nervously. "We were the same year at Hogwarts."

"Right," Joshua said before he turned to Lily. "I'll go grab your bag from inside."

Once he was out of earshot, Peter spoke up, his voice noticeably deeper. "Boyfriend?"

Lily huffed. "Yes, Peter. Believe it or not, I'm quite capable of maintaining a healthy romantic relationship."

"Does James know?"

"I fail to see how my romantic partner is any of his business." her reply came out more sharply than she intended.

"He is the father of your child, you know."

"I'm well aware Peter." Lily said in a more measured tone. "I was the one who had to carry Harry around for nine months."

"Well, does Joshua know? About Harry, I mean?"

Lily crossed her arms in front of her chest. "You're being awfully nosy. Did James ask you to stalk me or something?"

"Hey!" Peter exclaimed, indignant. "Can't I express a little curiosity without being suspected of ulterior motives? Besides, I volunteered to deliver the portkey 'cuz I had the day off and thought it would be nice to catch up with some old friends."

"And by old friend you thought of me?" She continued to eye him with suspicion.

"Among others."

Joshua chose then to return. "Have a fun trip, luv." he said, kissing her once more.

"I will." Lily strapped on her bag and grabbed the soon to be active portkey. "See you in a few!"

Peter was already gone before she was whisked away. "Date: August 19th, 1991," he muttered to himself, "Subject: Lily Evans, mudblood. Known member of Dumbledore's Order and suspected PRM recruit. Subject is exceptionally talented at Charms and was one of Dumbledore's trusted researchers. Recommend that further surveillance be conducted upon her return." He paused to take a deep breath. "New entry: Joshua Bell, possible muggle sympathizer. No known affiliations. Further research on personal history required."

* * *

Harry jumped over the last wooden step of _der Zufluchtsort'_s stairway with a boyish grin. "Good morning, Harry!" called out Jakob, the innkeeper. "Staying for breakfast?"

"You know I can't say no to your food, Jakob." Harry said in effortless German, the product of two and a half weeks immersed in the language.

Jakob chuckled heartily. "Sit down, sit down. I'll be right out with your food."

He chose a seat at the counter and swept the room with his eyes. Aside from an elderly looking Italian couple on the far side of the room, he was alone. "Slow day today," he said to Jakob when he returned with a plate.

"It's barely past seven. I'm surprised you're even awake right now."

"Why's that?" Harry picked at the roll of bread – _Semmel_, Jakob had named it.

"You usually wake up at eight, at the earliest. Something got you excited today?"

"Uh huh." Harry let out a delighted sigh while he chewed on some smoked bacon. "Ms. Lily's taking me to the muggle world today."

The innkeeper took a sip of his black coffee. "Ah, the famous Ms. Lily. She's your tutor, yes?" Harry made an affirmative sound. "August is a good month to visit Vienna. You are lucky there aren't many tourists this year."

"Any tips?"

"The palaces, Schönbrunn and Hofburg, are definite must sees. How do you feel about muggle art?" Harry made a face. "No? Well, I guess you can't go amiss sailing the Danube."

Two hours passed quickly with Jakob to keep him company. During the wait, James and Rob joined him, wanting to see him off for the day no doubt. As 9:30 approached, the trio headed over to _Habergeiss Tor_, the southernmost gateway that opened near the city center.

Ms. Lily, punctual as ever, was waiting for him already. "Your clothes, they're new." were her first words.

"They are." Harry agreed. He was wearing his recently purchased Durmstrang uniform.

She gave him the once over before answering. "Red is a good color on you," she said finally, "but you can't go to the muggle world dressed in that."

Harry looked himself over. His getup was decent, if he said so himself. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

"Muggles don't wear robes. You'd be an odd duck." Harry's heart sank. He'd been looking forward to this trip.

"Nothing a bit of transfiguration can't fix," James said.

"Maybe a glamour would be better?" suggested Lily. "The robes, they're new after all."

James relented and Lily had the charm set in a jiffy. "Be sure to bring him back 'round 8 tonight." he told her.

"Bye Harry!" Robert shouted as they neared the gateway which would transport them across the city.

"Have I ever told you why I chose a mastery in Charms?" Lily began all of a sudden.

"No," Harry said, curious to know why. "Why did you?"

"Magic is a truly wonderful thing to muggleborns. It's the sort of thing we only hear about in fairytales and bedtime stories. As we grow older, we figure it doesn't really exist. Could you imagine our shock when we find out its real? That there's a hidden world out there I can be a part of?"

"Personally, I'd be ecstatic." Harry commented.

"I certainly was." Lily agreed. "The possibilities with magic are endless and Charms are the best way to actualize that. Technology was developed to address the wants of the muggles. They've been working on it before written history began, and they've still got a long way to go. With Charms though, there's a spell to answer every problem, if only we bothered to look."

* * *

"You found it dull." Lily observed. It was the reason why they were coming back two hours earlier than planned.

Harry didn't want to admit it, but since she had brought it up…

"A little," Harry said, "I mean there were some things that were cool. Like the telly and the cars and the stoplight. But how do you do for entertainment? I mean, no flying aside from those clunky steel contraptions?"

"Planes," Lily provided, a grin on her face.

"Yeah, plains. Then the pictures and statues that don't move? And gosh the things that just do what they're supposed to! Those were the worst." Harry ranted, finding muggle life pitiful. "I mean-"

"I can't believe this!" Melissa's voice was muffled by the heavy door, but still comprehensible.

Harry sighed heavily. "Mother and dad are fighting. Again."

Lily glanced at the door, then back to Harry. "We should give them some privacy," she said, sounding worried.

"It's fine." Harry waved away her concerns. "I mean, usually, it's the same things they fight about."

"I promised him!" James screamed. "What did you want me to do? Not let him go with her today?"

Harry's face scrunched up. Were they fighting over him? He leaned in closer to listen.

"Yes!" his mother shrieked. "That's exactly what you should've done! You give that half-blood whelp of yours too much freedom!"

The words ringed in his ears, playing back in his head over and over again. _That_ _half-blood whelp of yours. _

But…how was that possible? Mum and dad, both of them were purebloods…unless Melissa wasn't his mother. But then, that meant Robert wasn't his brother, not really anyway. Harry's heart hammered at the thought, a mix of fear and dread taking hold of him.

Shaking, he stepped backwards.

A pair of soft hands fell on his shoulders in support. "Harry…"

"I…she's not my mother." he whispered. His head whipped around. "Please, please, don't tell them I know. I…I need time to deal with this."

Lily wanted to say something, she really did, but Harry didn't look like he could handle anymore.

"Please," Harry begged.

"Okay." She acceded. "If you want to talk about it, I'm here." she said gently.

"Thank you. I'm going for a walk."

It rained that night. Strangely, it tasted of salt.


	4. Arrival at Durmstrang

**Chapter 4: Arrival at Durmstrang**

"I'm surprised," Harry said in between bites of boneless, breaded beef, "that you haven't asked about your aunt's whereabouts." The aunt-doppelganger who sat across Gabriel remained unaffected; dutifully serving them wine that verged on the robotic.

Gabriel nodded his thanks to the metamorphmagus. "Okay, I'll give. Where's aunty at?" he asked with mild curiosity. In his twenty three years, he had never seen his uncle and aunt _not_ together. It had been his long held belief that they were joined at the hip - that theory was shot to hell in light of this.

"In Rumania, if you can believe it. Settling some dispute or another the locals have with the company." Despite the nonchalant delivery, Gabriel knew with certainty that his uncle, on demand, could describe with unerring precision the current predicament and the events preceding. "She said she'd be back tomorrow." said Harry, smirking.

"When do you think she'll be back?"

"A week, if she's lucky. Week and a half more probably." Harry swished the reddish liquid around his goblet, whiffing the aroma it let out. "You know, I used to hate wine. I considered it the drink of the pretentious." Harry raised his glass in toast to his cousin. _"In Vino Veritas!_"

"_In Vino Veritas._" Robert repeated with less enthusiasm. In wine there is truth…was his uncle trying to say he was being truly honest with him? "Aunty made you rethink your stance pretty fast, huh?"

"What can I say?" Harry shrugged shamelessly. "Having a girlfriend makes you reconsider many things. Speaking of which, you have a woman I should know about?"

"It's nothing serious."

Harry turned to his bodyguard. "Nothing serious, he says! His aunt and I were 'nothing serious' right up until we were married." He shook his head ruefully. "Young men and commitment, it seems some things don't change with time."

"We're not really seeing each other," said Robert, blushing.

"I'd still like to know more about this woman. At the very least tell me what she's like."

"She's uh, she's smart. Really, really smart."

"Really?" An amused expression settled on Harry's face.

"She got 7 E's and 5 P's during her finals." he told his uncle proudly.

Harry leaned backwards. "Interesting."

* * *

**_1 September 1991_**

It was a lie.

The phrase became Harry's mantra and he recited it with a religiousness the Pope would have praised.

It was a lie. It had to be.

After all, the very idea that he was a bastard was absolutely ridiculous! His parents had been together since…well, since he could remember. Besides, dad wasn't the type to cheat on mother. And mother was as prim and proper as purebloods went. She detested the notion of infidelity; uttering the word in her presence was taboo. No, she'd rather leave dad then stand the disgrace.

"What's to say you weren't born before?" a voice looming behind him whispered. "After all, you're parents weren't always together now. You could be a love child with your father's fling. Didn't Uncle Sirius say your dad had a few women back in the day?"

There was no way that could be true.

"But…why not?"

It just couldn't be.

"So confident about yourself…or is it just fear of the truth? Look for the truth, Harry. Look."

No.

"This will haunt you if you don't. You'll think about this day and night, like you have for the past three days."

I…

"We both know it. Stop running away, Harry. Or would you rather keep living a lie?"

My life isn't a lie!

"But you'll never be sure, will you? Not unless you find out for real. After all, how could knowing the truth hurt more than you're already hurting?"

But…where do I start? Do I ask somebody?

"The adults will never tell you what you want to know. 'You're too young'. 'I'll tell you when you're older'. 'It's a grown up thing.' Heard of those before? No, Harry, we ask the first question. Why can't it be true?"

Mother wouldn't stand it.

"Have you ever considered maybe you're the reason she hates bastards? Because your father had one, had you? You're a constant a reminder to her that your father loved someone else once, enough to sire a child. Wouldn't that just _kill _her inside?"

Dad wouldn't.

"But he did."

They'd been together since-

"since you could remember? Yet, how far back does your memory stretch? Not too far now that you think about it, right?"

As much as Harry wanted to deny it, it did make a whole lot of sense. It explained why his mother loved Robert more. It explained why his parents were always fighting. It explained why his mother still looked at him like he was a stranger. Why her eyes were ice towards him. Why he seemed to burn her with his touch.

The voice ceased to speak, but it left him with the dreaded certainty of knowing.

He was a half-blood. He was a bastard.

* * *

**_6 September 1991 _**

"I'm going to be so bored without you," Robert huffed.

"I'm sure mother will keep you busy." Harry, donning a dress shirt and a pair of brown, wool pants, looked his outfit over in front of the mirror, debating whether or not he needed a tie to look muggle enough. "Do you think I'll blend in?"

"I dunno, I guess?" Robert's words didn't fill him with much confidence. "I'm not exactly an expert on muggle robes." Finally settling on no tie, Harry grabbed his wand from his bedside stand. "You'll write home, right?" Robert said.

Harry paused, an incredulous expression settling in. "Course I will. Why wouldn't I?"

Robert's shoulders rose and fell as they headed downstairs. "You've just…been so distant lately."

"I was studying."

"The last two weeks were different. You never came out of your room aside from meals, sometimes not even then." Had he really? Harry had been trying to avoid his parents ever since that night in Vienna, but he didn't think anyone had realized. "It's like you've been avoiding everyone."

Harry frowned. "Not everyone. Just, I didn't feel like talking."

"Did I do something to make you mad?" he said all of a sudden, his eyes growing wide with horrid understanding.

"What? No!" Harry answered immediately. "It's nothing."

Robert continued to eye him warily. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Trust me, it's nothing you did."

His face lit up like Christmas had come early. "Ok brother!" James was waiting for him by the door, absently reading through a copy of _The Daily Prophet_.

"I'll see you on Christmas," Harry said, then, with conscious choice, leaned forward to hug him, "brother."

And in his heart, he knew it was true no matter what his parents said.

* * *

Unlike Hogwarts, which preferred the use of locomotive transport, Durmstrang preferred to use ships, or so, Harry could surmise from their instructions to assemble on some random strip of coast. King's Cross had Platform 9 and ¾; a sort of barrier only magical could cross if his dad's description was to be trusted. Maybe there was something similar he needed to do here? The letter wasn't very clear on what to do after getting to the beach.

"Did the letter say anything else?" James asked, looking just as lost as him.

Harry shook his head. "Not that I remember. Let me check again." He patted down his pockets in search of the acceptance letter.

A loud "Pop!" heralded more arrivals. Harry's eyes latched on instinct to the older of the two, a tall woman with light brown skin. What struck Harry the most about her, though, were her long, brown, slanting eyes. They had a glint to them that was both predatory and regal.

The younger of the two was a familiar face. "_Buongiorno, _Potter. How was Vienna?"

"Good to see you, Zabini. It was pretty cool actually, a lot different from England."

James and the woman, Blaise's mother presumably, exchanged greetings that were neither cordial nor cold. They knew each other, or at least, knew ofeach other.

Blaise threw glances around curiously. "I'm not late, am I?" he asked. "I mean, this place looks utterly deserted."

"It was like this when we got here." Harry told him.

"Alright," Blaise said, turning to him again before frowning as he scrutinized Harry's getup. "What are you wearing?"

"Muggle clothes. Dad thought there'd be some around."

"Well, there aren't so go put on a robe on. You look ridiculous!"

In the period of time it took him to find his blood red Durmstrang robes from his trunk and put it on, two more groups had joined them; a brother and a sister with their mother and a blonde, dreamy-eyed girl with her equally dazed father.

Blaise nudged Harry with his elbow. "Think they're headed to Durmstrang too?" he whispered.

"Doubt it. They're uniforms don't look anything like ours." The three all sported sky blue clothing that looked to be of silk, hardly winter clothing. They would freeze if they went to Durmstrang wearing that.

"Hello," the girl with the far-away countenance greeted. "You've got a nasty infestation of Wrackspurts."

The only reaction Harry could muster was blinking. How was one supposed to react to that anyhow?

"Sorry?" Blaise leaned forward, just as puzzled. "What are Wrackspurts?"

"Oh, I'm not surprised you haven't heard of them. They're not talked about much anymore. Wrackspurts are creatures that float into your ear and make your brain go fuzzy." she said matter-of-factly. "I'm Luna, by the way. Luna Lovegood."

"Nice to meet you, Luna," Harry said. "Er, these Wrackspurts was it? How come we can't see them?"

"They're invisible of course." she said with a look of utter seriousness, yet somehow maintained the air of distinct eccentricity about her. "Nothing to worry about though. Thinking positive thoughts can cure you of them easily."

Harry was left wondering if she was really crazy or if she was pulling one on them. "So where are you headed?" Blaise asked, steering the conversation towards more relatable grounds.

"The Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, in the Pyrenees." she said. "I'm hoping I can continue my research on Quibbling Skivers there. France has the largest concentration in the world."

Having neither heard of "Quibbling Skivers", nor the inclination to know what it was, Harry decided to just nod along and pretend he knew what she was talking about. "Fascinating. Well, I wish you best of luck on your 'research'."

The sarcastic lilt at the end went unnoticed for she beamed at him and bid them a genuine farewell, before skipping back to her father. Literally, she skipped.

"Odd little girl." Harry said.

"Completely barmy," Blaise agreed.

"She looked rather young. Does Beauxbatons accept students her age?"

Blaise stroked his chin contemplatively. "Not sure. I mean they do have this preteen 'cultural preparedness' course."

"'Cultural preparedness?'" Harry repeated with a disdainful snort. "What, do they teach you the proper way to pick up a spoon during dinner?"

"More or less," Blaise said. "Complete waste of time really. It's the reason Mum chose Durmstrang in the end."

The mighty roar of falling water, not unlike a waterfall, reached his ears. They turned to see a ship rising out of the depths. The sails unfurled, the proud sigil of Durmstrang displayed on the mainsail. A man stood on the ship's maintop, the brief glints of sun striking his body to give him an ethereal appearance. The frigate finished surfacing but remained in place. Instead, a rowboat was lowered and it glided towards the beach at a pace that left no doubt magic was involved.

"Durmstrang all aboard! Durmstrang all aboard!" a man shouted in German as soon as the boat hit the sand.

Harry made to pick up his trunk, only to find his dad had it already and was striding forward. By the time he had caught up, he saw the man who had been shouting engaged with James in a conversation.

"…strung takes the safety of all its students very seriously. Each Durmstrang ship is accompanied by two Masters and three Aurors."

"Aurors? From which Ministry?"

"All Ministries which have an interest in Durmstrang security volunteer. The ones on this ship are from Norway, Germany and Finland." the man explained patiently. "These Aurors, aside from taking vows, are all alumni of our school. They are loyal without a doubt. Now really sir, we must be on our way soon if we wish to make it for the Opening Feast."

James grabbed Harry and enveloped him in a warm embrace. "Keep out of trouble, okay?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "It'll be fine dad."

James nodded, parting reluctantly so his could board. The moment Harry was on the rowboat it took off again, returning to the ship at an even faster rate. Harry looked back to his father who stood in silent vigil on the beach. He did not move until the ship was out of sight.

"_Einherjar_?" Blaise's words drew his gaze to the ship's name on the frigate's side.

"It's from Viking mythology. _Einherjar_, the warriors brought to Valhalla by the Valkyries," the man provided. His companion, a gruff man, grunted in agreement. "Oh, Master Herodotus, by the way. I teach history."

"Good morning, Master Herodotus. I'm Blaise Zabini."

"Harry Potter," Harry followed a moment later.

"Yes, yes, I know who you two are. The first two Brits Durmstrang will be teaching in over thirty years." Herodotus peered at them through his round spectacles. "There hasn't been a British enrollee since Albus Dumbledore took the reins of Hogwarts. Plenty of inquiries, but none of them ever chose Durmstrang. I suppose it was only a matter of time we'd get some Brits again with Dumbledore gone really."

Harry and Blaise exchanged looks but kept silent.

As they drew progressively closer to the ship, its finer details became noticeable. Aside from its sails – which remained in prime, almost mint, condition – there was no evidence the ship was propelled physically. Its masthead was also interesting, in that it had a winged beauty watching over the sea. One hand held a sword, the other bathed in flames.

Herodotus must have noticed Harry's gaze lingered on the carving for he decided it was an opportune time to discuss the subject. "The masthead is a Valkyrie, the chooser of the slain. They were a host of females who descended from the heavens, tasked with deciding a man's fate in battle. Notice, however, the wings and their manipulation of fire? What do they remind you of?"

Blaise beat Harry to the answer. "Veelas."

Herodotus bobbed his head eagerly. "Exactly! The uncanny resemblance of Valkyries to the Veela have led many scholars to conclude they were one and the same. The fact that Scandinavia has the highest Veela ratio in the world seems to support this idea." Herodotus was a man who loved to talk. Once you got him started on a topic, he could go on for hours.

He was engaged in a lengthy discussion on the history of the Brazilian Veelas (or Amazons, as the muggles called them) when the rowboat was finally hoisted back onto deck, sparing the boys from listening to the tiring, albeit mildly interesting, teacher.

"You boys best get below deck before we go under." the Auror that had accompanied Herodotus said, pointing at a descending staircase not far away.

The first thing they noticed was that the concept of empty rooms was nonexistent, such was the extent the ship had been filled. Not to say that there wasn't any space (in fact, there was plenty of space thanks to generous application of Expansion Charms on the rooms), just that there wasn't anywhere really private. The second thing they noticed was that the upperclassmen weren't a friendly sort. The better part of half an hour was spent looking for a room to crash in. Thankfully, they stumbled into a nervous lot comprised mostly of newcomers like themselves. Neutral was the best word to describe their reception.

It was after a round of half-hearted introductions from the three original occupants that they found out a third thing: mostly everyone was from Scandinavia.

"You two might be the only people not from Nordenjord on this ship," remarked Damarion, a scrawny fellow from Norway.

"Nordenjord?" Harry frowned at the unfamiliar term.

"Norway, Finland, Sweden, Denmark and Iceland put together. It means soil of the Nordics," answered Astrid softly, tucking a blond lock behind her ear. For some reason, Harry noticed a lot of things about her. She wasn't wearing any makeup as far as he could tell. Her lips, a rich shade of red, looked soft and luscious. She had high cheekbones and a slender neck. Her pearly white skin, you could tell just by looking, was smooth. But most of all he thought about her hair. It wasn't golden like Daphne's, or a dirty blond like Lavender's. Sun-kissed, perhaps, was the best adjective for it.

The disproportionate amount of time and thought he had given her felt…strange. Astrid was pretty, Harry couldn't deny, but he didn't feel anything in particular. There was just something naturally compelling about her.

Blaise wasn't faring any better as he sat on the edge of his seat, hanging onto her every word. "Better rein it in, Astrid. They don't look to be faring too well." said an amused Dayna – the last of the trio – upon seeing their helpless condition.

"Oh! Sorry!" Astrid blushed, looking down.

And just like that, the spell over them was lifted. Her beauty hadn't diminished in his eyes and Harry was certain she would be hot in a few years. He merely no longer needed to think or look at Astrid.

"Veela powers," Dayna explained, rolling her eyes. "They can hit you pretty hard if you don't know it's there."

"Huh, I thought it caused you to be infatuated with someone?" Harry asked. "That was more like…" he trailed off, not really sure how to describe the phenomena.

"More like paying her a lot of attention, right?" provided Damarion helpfully. Harry nodded. "Trust me, been there done that. Like every fifth girl in my hometown was a Veela."

"What was that like?" Blaise asked, finally contributing to the conversation.

"It was a bit annoying having to keep my guard up really."

Blaise peered at him curiously. "Wasn't it hard? Resisting their allure, I mean?"

"Nah, not really. It's a common misconception. The real reason most men and women find it difficult is because they aren't aware what they're dealing with. Once you get used to the feeling, it's easy to ignore the urge."

"Wait." Harry frowned. "Women? How do Veela affect women?"

Dayna was the one who deigned to enlighten them on the mysteries of the Veela. "The 'allure' as people call it, isn't really about creating infatuation in men. It doesn't have anything to do with emotions at all. Suggestive magic might be a better term to describe it."

"It basically draws attention to Veela." added Damarion. "Properly controlled, they can use it to highlight a particular aspect about them, not just necessarily their looks. It could be a character trait, a quirk, even an opinion of theirs."

"And if it isn't controlled?" Blaise asked.

"You're just generally left noticing random things about Veela. You sort of understand why men think they'd be in love after being exposed to it. I mean after all, they're easy on the eyes and you're left thinking about them whenever they're around." Damarion said.

Astrid, uncomfortable about being talked about for so long, decided to change topics, though not quite as smoothly as she might have hoped for. "So, how do you two think you'll do on the placement exams?"

The placement exams, Harry recalled, had been discussed in his acceptance letter. It was basically a test administered to new students to determine their level at a particular subject. Durmstrang prided itself in cultivating magical talent, and did so by allowing talented students to learn at their own pace.

"I'm decent at Transfiguration and Potions I guess, but I haven't really studied much on the other subjects," Blaise said. Smirking, he decided he was also Harry's spokesman. "Harry here, will definitely be a shoo-in for third year Charms though."

Harry threw him a dirty look. Not because it wasn't true, because objectively his skill at Charms was at that point. Even Ms. Lily had said so, though that may have been because he was her only student. Rather, he didn't see the need to tell people that.

His hopes that it would end there died when the three turned to stare at him with clear interest. "Third year? That's impressive!" Astrid said.

"Are you really?" Damarion asked, sounding a bit skeptical at the large claim and for good reason. New students testing into any 3rd year class were rare.

Harry shrugged nonchalantly, not wanting to make a big deal out of it. "Blaise is a lot more confident about it than I am."

"After seeing your stint with the flame animation, how could I not be? It was solid second year work," he said pointedly. "And knowing you, you probably studied excessively the last two months to round out your Charms. Am I right?"

"…Maybe." Blaise's smirk turned into a victorious grin. "Oh, stuff it, Zabini. With the way you're acting, you'd think it was you who's getting bumped up two years."

"Well, I'm a friend of someone who is. It's the next best thing y'know, without the need to practice."

"How so?" Dayna asked.

"Free Charms tutor."

Harry glared at his so called friend. "Just for that, I'm going to teach you wrong."

If anything, Blaise's insufferable grin grew wider.

* * *

Blaise hurriedly jumped back into the ship's walled lower deck, shaking violently as a blast of bone-chilling air hit him. "Merlin's Beard! It's freezing out there!"

"That's what the winter coat's for," quipped Harry, sidestepping him easily to get outside. The _Einherjar_ had surfaced five minutes ago, signaling that Castle Durmstrang was near. It wasn't surprising that the excitable first years rushed to the deck in order to get a glimpse of the school.

Even with his crimson fur coat layered with a strong warming charm, the cold still seeped into his bones. Harry wondered if he should've brought warmer clothes, because there was no way he could survive three months in this temperature.

"Don't worry about it," Dayna said, peering over the ship's side. "It'll be much warmer on Castle grounds, where the mountains shield you from the wind."

Taking heart at her words, Harry joined her. Some of the merfolk – aquatic, humanoid cousins of the sirens – were lounging near the ship. Occasionally, one of the children would wave or swim along side. _Einherjar _slowed its pace considerably as it entered an inland river. The faint outline of a castle was visible in the distance and mountaintops peaked over even the castle's highest tower.

The midday sun hung low in the sky, its light framing the landscape in an almost mystical way. Hues of orange and shades of red mixed freely with earthly brown and green. Some of the merfolk continued to trail behind them lazily, soaking up what sun they could before the polar nights swallowed it whole. Overhead, a flock of birds headed south, the current of air accompanying them washed over Harry. The warmth was leaving this place, and soon, winter would be upon them. He could feel it in his bones.

"Ah, dearest students!" a professor's all too familiar voice said from their six. "Enjoying the autumn view, I see?"

"Yes, Master Herodotus," Dayna answered in a resigned tone.

"It'll last for a few more weeks, I reckon. Autumn was slow to come this year, so it'll be a while before winter overtakes it." he said, nodding to himself knowingly. "Say, did you know about this river we're on?"

He was talking until they got to Durmstrang itself, a full thirty minutes talking about the waterway, called the Angren river and its origins, the Twin Lakes of Nord Loch and Suden Mere that lay within the outer walls of Durmstrang. These were a merpeople sanctuary, which explained the large presence of the water-dwelling folk.

Harry had mastered the art of tuning him out by the time they had crossed the Angrenost – the outer wall's river portcullis that served as the main entrance of the school. A menacing obelisk made of black stone towered beside the gate, built into the very wall. Though calm, Harry was left with the impression that it could become the center of powerful, malevolent energy at a moment's notice.

A surprisingly vast expanse of plant life and trees existed even this far north, covering wide stretches of land to either side of the river. Noticeably, there were fewer of these once they passed through the gate. It was already impressive hiding the Highmaster's tower from prying muggle eyes, much less the acres of land.

Beyond the raised portcullis of the castle itself were ships similar to the _Einherjar_, resting on the calm waters as students disembarked. The empty ones sailed further forward before veering off to either side of a fork. These must have lead to the Twin Lakes, Harry thought. It would make sense that the ships would dock there when not in use.

Finally, it was their turn to leave the ship.

"Quickly everyone! To the Feasting Hall!" Herodotus shouted over the low chatter of children. "Your luggage will be sent to your dorms, so don't worry about those!"

The halls were at least ten men wide, so even with the influx of students, it wasn't really crowded. Harry and Blaise contented themselves with following the crowd, bringing up the rear. Even the Feasting Hall's immense size was barely enough to seat all the students, numbering nearly a thousand. There appeared to be no prearranged seating, however, most of the newly arrived stuck with their shipmates, something the boys weren't opposed to. Among the older students, intermixing was more frequent, although Germans and Russians as an unspoken rule didn't interact.

Once they were all seated, a scholarly looking elder rose from the staff table. The murmurings died to respectful silence as he prepared to address them.

"Sons and Daughters of Durmstrang," he began, a charm amplifying the sound by several magnitudes, "welcome home!" If he was expecting a reaction from the students, he got it in spades. A kind smile appeared on his face as he waited for the explosive cheering to settle. "To our youngest members, warmest greetings! I am Zelislav Dvorsky, Highmaster of this fine establishment."

"Our Institute is one of the oldest in Europe. We have produced some of the greatest witches and wizards of the world. To be a student here is also to be a part-" here he coughed violently, but everyone waited patiently, "-to be a part of its rich history and tradition. I hope that all of you will continue to live up to the Durmstrang name."

"In the next few days, first termers, you will undergo a series of placement tests to determine at what level you are in a particular subject. Those who are advanced enough will be assigned higher level classes. Not to fear though, for those subjects which you have no knowledge of, you will be placed in an introductory class. This procedure is merely a method of ensuring our students learn at their own rate. Here at Durmstrang, we believe in cultivating excellence through competition and-" *cough* "-the recognition of talent."

"To help our fine new additions in adjusting to the unique culture of our school, you will be paired up, as is tradition, with an older student who will act as your guide during the uncertain first steps into our world. Trust in them, trust in the system, but most importantly, trust in yourselves." He raised his golden cup in salute. "Hail Durmstrang!"

"Hail Durmstrang!"


	5. The Placement Exams

**Chapter 5: The Placement Exams**

Gabriel honestly never imagined his uncle still followed Quidditch news in his age. He obviously doubted how much of a true fan Harry was of the great game.

So here they were on the living room of his Vienna property, nesting their respective cups of coffee. A copy of Quidditch Weekly lay open in Harry's lap. Gabriel himself wasn't an enthusiast of the sport, although growing up as the son of Robert Potter ensured he had at the very least a passing appreciation for the popular aerial sport.

"Looking back, I'm grateful I had Quidditch," Harry began abruptly, flipping through the pages. "More than just a hobby, it was a means of living for a while, before the company was truly ready. I think that's the reason it holds a special place in my heart."

Gabriel found it hard to reconcile the idea of his erudite uncle with that of being a Quidditch athlete. It just seemed so…disjointed.

"Ah!" Harry held up a picture on the magazine that even non-fans recognized, such was the extent of his fame. It was an interview with the legendary seeker, captain and now coach. "Viktor Krum, now there's a man for the books. Single-handedly placed the Balkans back on the pitch, so to speak, by bringing the Bulgarian team to the World Cup! Before him, the Balkan Leagues were a joke, chock full of amateurs. But Viktor…Viktor was exemplary, the pinnacle of unconventional play. People used to laugh at his ideas, until he went on a winning streak that made us rethink the classical Quidditch strategies. He expanded on the idea of hybrid roles and revolutionized the game by pushing for hypermodern play."

"You knew him?" Gabriel asked. Harry's casual use of his first name suggested it, not that it would surprise Gabriel if he did. Harry Potter was a powerful individual who made it his business to know other powerful individuals.

"He was my Mentor," Harry answered. Without looking up, he continued. "I don't even need Legilimency to know you have something to say."

"It's just difficult for me to see you as a Quidditch player when I've always thought of you as a scholar is all."

"A scholar?" He looked really, really amused by that. "Me, a scholar? Do me a favor, Gabby, and tell your father this when you see him next."

Gabriel wasn't sure what was so funny about it. "I, uh, alright?" His uncle was universally accepted as a pioneer in the field of Charms and was knowledgeable in many magical studies.

"I am many things, nephew, but a scholar…no I don't consider myself as that. Not in the truest sense of the word, anyway. You see, I hated reading for the longest time. I'd only pick up a book if I thought it would help further my craft." He took another sip of his coffee. "Or if it was about Quidditch."

* * *

**_6 September 1991_**

The Opening Feast was far from over when Viktor Krum walked out of the hall to his friends' puzzled looks.

"Master Bujnowski!" he called out after the dour-faced Pole, never even breaking his own hurried stride. The professor - broad-shouldered, tall and with hawkish eyes that bore no hint of humor - turned to regard his charge.

The Transfiguration Master waited, impatient irritation unmasked. "What."

Viktor slowed to a more reasonable pace. He waved a slip of parchment in the air. "I think there's been a mistake, sir. I'm in my 2nd Term for the year, sir. I can't be a mentor!"

"No mistake, Krum."

"But Master! Mentorship is for one term only!" he protested.

"Well, you should've been done by now if you had done your job right!" Bujnowski glared, taking an angry step towards Viktor. "Do you understand what you did? That boy nearly flunked out of his second term – his second! – because he didn't even know what the adjustment was!"

"But sir, I can explain. I had to practice for t-"

"Bah! Quidditch, is that all you think about?" Bujnowski crossed his arms, eyeing him with contempt. "I swear boy, you are one class away from being kicked out of Transfiguration and you still obsess over that dream of yours. Grow up, Viktor. Now, go teach that boy and this time, do it right!" He turned on his heel, stalking away.

"Great!" murmured Viktor. "And with BYQL right around the corner too." Still, it couldn't be too bad, right? I mean, it wasn't like he had to hang out with this kid during his breaks, maybe just once or twice a week at most. He glanced at the slip to reread the student he had been assigned.

Harry James Potter  
Freyr Dorms - 77

If this Harry Potter was staying at the Acres, then he couldn't be that bad. Chances were he wasn't a rich ass with superiority issues and the fact that he wasn't German…well, that could only be a plus in Viktor's books. At the very least, it would be interesting to see how the British were different. All in all, he could have gotten a lot worse in the draw.

That settled, Viktor walked back to finish his dinner, making a mental note to stop by Harry Potter's room before light's out.

* * *

"75…76...here we are." Harry said.

Blaise turned the knob; brisk, wide steps marking his entrance. The two others who would be sharing the room with them were already inside, and gave him a cordial nod in greeting. Blaise, ever the socialite, found this to be lacking.

"Hello there roomies, I'm Blaise Zabini." he said, offering his hand.

"Aldric," the boy with dark hair said, politely standing to shake his hand, "Aldric Hochberg." He was tall for an eleven year old, at least a head taller than Harry.

"Gasto Kistler," the other said, remaining comfortably supine on his bed as he flipped through a magazine leisurely.

"Harry Potter," Harry said, mostly because everyone else had given theirs.

They settled into a comfortable pattern with Blaise steering the course of conversation easily and Aldric acting as his audience. Harry listened half-heartedly, occasionally remarking on something or the other, but mostly remained content in going through his things. Gasto himself only spoke when spoken to.

The room was homey, if simple. Some kind of temperature charm had been layered into the floors and walls to keep the room warm, so they didn't need to keep wrapped up in their winter coats all the time. Four beds and four bedside tables took up most of the space, their personal trunks resting at the foot of each bed with a small gap so one could pass through the middle. At one end of the room was a door leading to the halls, the other opened to their bath. The only complaint one might raise was the lack of real windows, though the magically charmed glass that offered a nice view of the northern lake more than made up for it.

There was a knock on the door. "Room 77, Harry Potter?" The voice had an accent to it that was distinctly Slavic in origin.

Aldric was the closest and moved to open it. The young man who stepped in was thin and of sleek build, toned muscles showing him to be a Quidditch player of serious caliber. His skin was dark, dry and flaky with a large, curved nose and thick brows. He didn't look too pleased to be here, and his eyes, while scanning the room, had an intensity to them.

"Which of you is Harry Potter?"

Tentatively, Harry raised his hand. "Are you my mentor?"

"Yes, Viktor Krum. Do you have anything you want to ask me about?"

"None he'd want you answering, Vicky." Viktor's stance became stiff and guarded as he turned around slowly. Fists were clenching and unclenching.

The four first years exchanged worried glances, keeping still and silent as if any action of theirs would trigger a scene.

"You're blocking the way in, Vicky." a different voice jeered. "Move or be moved."

Viktor stepped aside, the shaking body a mix of restrained rage and suspicion. Two boys about his age stepped in; chins high and eyes appraising, as if they were judging the worth of each person. It made Harry feel self-conscious and he sat up a little straighter.

"The name's Reynold Burgstaller, fifth year, accelerated in Transfiguration and Potions."

"And I'm Theodoric Dietrich, accelerated in Dueling. _German_." he said, sounding proudest about that.

"Mentorship is for fourth years." spat out Viktor. "What are you two doing here?"

Reynold tutted. "Unlike you Vicky, we consider being mentors a privilege, not a chore." He glanced at Harry once more, than made a show of shaking his head. "I feel sorry for the kid already, especially after what you did to poor Aaron."

"Take my advice Brit," Theodoric said, gesturing to Viktor with his thumb, "and request for a new mentor. This one's simply no good for you. He's probably going to flunk Ivanovovitch's class this year anyway. That'll be what, Viktor, the _third _class you'll be vetoed from?"

"Second." Viktor said through gritted teeth.

Theodoric sighed. "Shame, I was hoping you'd be expelled at last."

"Not to worry. I'm sure it won't take him long to get thrown out of Herbology. All he seems capable of thinking about is his nonexistent Quidditch career. He'll amount to nothing, as is expected of a half-blood."

Harry's insides turned to ice. Half-blood, the word echoed in his ears like condemnation. If these people found out about him, would he face the same treatment? It seemed likely.

Viktor closed the gap between them in an instant, his fist making contact with Reynold not a moment later, but he was forgetting a crucial fact: there were two of them. Theodoric, true to his word as an above average fighter, had his wand drawn and a Banishing Charm out before Viktor could get in a second punch. The blast had enough force to throw him out of the room.

"Get out of here Krum." he said, magically shutting and securing the door to bar his entry. Then he turned back to the frightened first years with a charming smile. "Sorry about that unpleasantness, but Krum is not someone you want around." The next part was addressed to Harry specifically. "You're better off without him. If you ever have questions, Reynold and I are more than happy to help."

"So the placement exams tomorrow, what can we expect?" Aldric asked.

"It's more or less a typical test. You'll have the theoretical subjects first - Astronomy, Magical Theory – and you end with the practical ones, like Charms and Dueling. The interesting part though, is adjustment."

Reynold, done nursing his aching jaw, nodded. "Adjustment is for those who manage to get accelerated, that means to test into a higher class. The professors' hand out schedules based on your year and term which assumes a perfectly average student, but those who accelerate or are held back require special schedules. That's where adjustment comes in - you get to pick the classes you need."

"Isn't it hard? I mean, matching up the classes like that." Blaise asked.

"Not really," Reynold answered. "Each of the subjects have at least three professors full time. Well, I suppose Flying and Magical Theory have one only, but those classes you take only in the first year."

"The important subjects could have up to five or six Masters." added Theodoric.

Reynold nodded. "Right, so you actually have some schedule flexibility."

"Some of the other students, they keep calling us first termers, although they look about our age. Why is that?" Aldric asked.

"Ah, well you see, the Durmstrang year is divided into three more or less equal terms, and we treat each term as an independent period," Reynold said. "It allows us to take in new students every term. Me and Theodoric, for example, entered the term before Summer break, on May."

"Oh!" exclaimed Aldric, a burst of realization sparking in him. "So when they mention Charms one-three, it's really just first year Charms."

"The latter third, but yeah." confirmed Theodoric. "Students in Durmstrang get accepted in the term after they turn eleven."

Blaise frowned. "When do the terms start?" he asked, worried that he was behind.

"Usually? The first weeks of September, January and May."

"Why would Durmstrang do that though? Doesn't make much sense to me." Blaise continued, unsatisfied.

Reynold shrugged. "Durmstrang has always emphasized that children should be trained as soon as they are able. The Overseers' Board does not like wasting time."

The two stayed until five minutes to curfew, when they made their way to their own dorms over at Central. Harry had remained quiet throughout the whole Q&A.

* * *

Viktor felt himself getting thrown back through his angry haze. Not one to give up so easily, he was bouncing back to retaliate with his wand now drawn, only to see the door shut. "_Alohamora!_" he shouted, putting every ounce of skill behind the spell.

It didn't work.

Viktor scowled. Theodoric's charms were a step above his, he knew in the back of his head, but he had to try. He stepped back and considered his options.

Trying to charm it open would result in the same failure. To paraphrase the saying, fool is the man who does the same thing expecting a different outcome. He could transfigure the…no stupid idea. This was a magically fortified structure, he'd be lucky if he managed to make even the slightest altercations to its structure.

Dueling then? It was his best subject since Flying wasn't considered one. He didn't like the idea of having to explain why he had blown up a door…

"Rough day, Viktor?"

He turned to see a curly-haired brunette walking up to him. Her Mediterranean complexion made it obvious she was from the south, a breed rather uncommon for Durmstrang. Gina Scopa - whose Italian family was renown in the broom making circle - and Viktor were never close, but they respected each other's dedication to their chosen field of vocation, despite the criticisms of others.

"Reynold and Theodoric again, huh?" she asked, after he nodded. "They're getting bolder these days. Any idea why?"

"All I know is that the scum are recruiting among the lower years." Viktor growled, his glare returning to the door that denied him entrance. "Anyway, what brings you here? You're dorms are at Riverwatch, right?"

"Yeah, I stay at the Egir Dorms. My Mentee is roommates with yours, a Blaise Zabini, I'm told."

"Makes sense, you're both Italian after all." There was a lull in their conversation. "Think you could open the door?"

"Perhaps," she said, calmly, "but I'm not looking for a fight on my first night."

Viktor could understand that. Reynold and Theodoric were popular purebloods whom the staff favored. More than a few of their indiscretions were overlooked, considering how well connected they were, and they were vicious when they wanted to be.

"Congratulations, by the way." Gina said. "Third place in the Bulgarian Youth League isn't bad." She was referring to his team's victory last April, two terms ago.

"Thanks, it's just enough to get my team competing in the Balkan League next year."

"All that hard work paying off at last. I mean, that was the second term you skipped, after all. It'd be a shame if it was for nothing."

Viktor winced, remembering his father's harsh rebuke when he found out about his misconduct. "Don't remind me. I'm already seriously delayed as is. If it wasn't for father and Master Bujnowski, I would've been kicked out already." he admitted then sighed. "I guess we'll have to come back tomorrow morning if we want to talk to our Mentees."

"That would be best." she agreed.

They continued to walk in comfortable silence.

"Bujnowski hates me." Viktor moaned on impulse, unable to overcome the need to share.

Gina snorted. "No he doesn't. He's just upset you let him down. He put his own career on the line when he argued for your reacceptance last term, after all." Viktor had been on probation after his second stint at cutting school for Quidditch and the staff held a meeting to determine his fate. "He wouldn't do that if he hated you."

"Well, he must hate me now." Viktor dreaded as he realized something. "I've jeopardized his chances at making Highmaster by screwing up with my former Mentee."

"If you knew that then why did you leave your last Mentee alone?"

"I forgot, okay? It's just…" he trailed off, "when I play Quidditch, it's all I think about. I forget everything else…does that make sense?"

To his surprise, she answered in the affirmative. "Like the world disappears around you. In that moment, it's just you and your passion – nothing else matters. It's easy to get lost in something you love."

* * *

**_7 September 1991_**

Viktor had always been an early riser. His devotion to Quidditch necessitated it. Practice, breakfast, class, lunch, more class, practice, dinner, practice – that was a pretty good summary of his daily routine. He was startled when he found someone else on the pitch after an hour of self-practice. Six-thirty in the morning was still quite early. He couldn't remember the last time he'd ever seen someone fly at this time of the day.

The flyer hadn't realized he was there, and Viktor decided to watch for a while. He was…good; more than good, actually. The talent was definitely here, if unrefined by a lack of dedicated training.

Deciding he had watched long enough, Viktor timed his dive so that he'd pull up right beside the mystery flyer. A natural prodigy of the aerial art, he executed it flawlessly. "You need to work on your angling for the Wronski Feint." he commented as he neared, nearly causing the boy to fall over. "Don't worry. It's a difficult move to pull off. I'm sure you'll get it with time."

The boy had just recovered, slowing to a halt. Viktor did likewise, if only to get a good look at his face.

"Potter?" Viktor frowned at his Mentee. "What are you doing up this early? You've got your exams today." A touch of concern colored his words.

"Couldn't sleep," he mumbled. "I'm a, a touch bit anxious today."

"You'll be fine," assured Viktor, remembering his own exams vividly and the uncertainty that plagued him. "They don't kick anybody out for doing badly in these tests." He grinned. "After the tests, that's another story entirely." His joke fell flat.

"Those two last night, they…mentioned things," Harry said uncertainly, turning to watch the castle below, "about you and your Mentee...the one before me, I mean." The sun was already up, had been for a few hours now.

Viktor's expression became stormy. "What did they say, specifically?"

"You met him once and left him clueless. He almost dropped out because he had no classes for his second term – he didn't know about the adjustment and he was held back for a couple of subjects." Harry faced Viktor once more, as if the truth was written on his face. "Was it true? What they said?"

"Yes," confessed Viktor, hesitant. "But, there was a reason for it." Harry didn't say anything and Viktor took that as his cue to explain. "I was very busy that term, preparing for a Quidditch game, an important one. I'm part of the young pro league back in my country, Bulgaria." This caused a spark of interest from the gloomy boy.

"Wicked," Viktor didn't know what that was supposed to mean, but his smile implied it was a compliment and he took it as that, "so are you playing soon?"

Viktor nodded slowly. "At the Balkan Leagues, during the Christmas break. I have to keep practicing if my team has a shot of winning."

"That must take up a lot of your time."

"It does."

"Oh…well if you're so busy why take on a Mentee then?" Harry asked. He didn't want to be a burden.

"Being a Mentor isn't a choice." Viktor explained. "It's considered a requirement for students who pass their SCEME 1. You'll take that exam on your third year, probably. Anyway, completing a Mentorship is a requirement, as I've recently been informed."

"Why did Theodoric tell me to get a new one then if you're required to do it?"

Viktor scowled, remembering that part of the exchange. "To get me expelled probably. Theodoric and I don't get along, if you didn't notice. I'm on thin ice as it is with the Masters and screwing up another Mentorship will be sure to get me kicked out."

"And Theodoric and Reynold, why do they do it? They said they were fifth years so they should've been done with it, right?"

"They are volunteers." answered Viktor. "Trying to spread their idea of the Neo-Hegemony, no doubt."

"The Neo-Hegemony?" Harry repeated uncertainly. He knew of the Hegemony, Grindelwald's ideology of magical dominance and the unification of both worlds under one meritocratic, authoritarian order - his. His message of the "benign" magical overlord was a seductive one that transcended nationality, blood and class.

"You know about the Hegemony?" Harry nodded. "Well, it's that with blood purism and a touch of nationalism, basically."

"Oh." He became silent and a palpable tension remained between them.

"We should head back soon. You don't want to be late for your exams."

* * *

"These tests suck." Blaise sulked, taking a seat in the Feasting Hall.

"It wasn't that bad," Harry said in English from across him. "At least, the Magical Theory one. Astronomy and Herbology though were just horrid."

"Don't mention Astronomy to me." Blaise said, angrily stabbing a steak. "How are we supposed to know what Orion looks like based on a picture? Stars are stars!" He was chewing the meat...viciously, like a predator.

A blonde mess plopped onto the seat to Harry's right. Astrid was mumbling what Harry could only guess was a string of Scandinavian curse words. "Odin" and "Thor" were the only words he was familiar with, and he heard them invoked alarmingly often.

Harry looked at her with pity, before tearing his eyes away and focusing on his food. Blaise's gaze lingered and Harry had to kick him sharply in the shin to break the allure's hold. "Where's Dayna and Damarion, you think?" This time he asked in German so Astrid wouldn't feel excluded.

"Dayna's right here." Dayna said, taking a seat beside Blaise. "Damarion has a new friend though." There was conspiracy in her smirk.

"Oh?" Blaise asked, mildly curious, as he continued to devour his beef-like steak. "Do tell."

Dayna sighed in an exaggerated fashion, dramatically placing a hand to her forehead. "Dearest 'Dar-Dar'-" this was done in air quotes "-has found himself charmed by another Veela; a Swede that goes by Nora. The poor dear'll be heart broken by the end of the month when he finds out she has a boyfriend."

"I thought he was immune to Veelas?" Harry asked while he tried to decide which of the strange cuisine he should try next.

"To their allure, not to their beauty – and this one's a looker."

Astrid was now propping her head up lazily with an arm. "He has a crush on his Mentor." Harry couldn't help it – he burst out laughing. Did that make him a bad friend? Nah…Damarion was practically asking to be laughed at.

"Follows her everywhere like a lost puppy." added Dayna. "She finds him, what was the word, 'adorable'."

"Last we saw him, he was writing ballads that spoke of her 'impossibly green eyes' and 'hair like the moon's rays'. Quite the artist he's turning out to be."

"Did this happen a lot back at home?" Harry asked, settling on a decent helping of _Farikal_, a mutton stew the girls had recommended the previous night.

"Only in the last few weeks," Astrid confirmed. "His crushes never lasted too long."

"This steak is really good," Blaise said, completely off-topic. "Harry, you should try it. It's like beef, but better!"

"Oh, reindeer steak you mean," Dayna said.

There was a sound of metal clattering on the table. "Reindeer?" Blaise squawked, horrified and fork now abandoned. "I've been eating Rudolph this entire time?!"

"Yup," Astrid said, nonchalant to his dilemma. "You should try the sauce."

"You people are savages." Blaise sulked again.

* * *

**_8 September 1991_**

Yesterday after lunch, they had finished Creature Studies and History in addition to Magical Theory and Herbology. Those tests had left them feeling incredibly stupid and inadequate. Today, they'd be topping it off with Potions, Transfiguration, Charms, and last but not least Dueling. Hopefully, they'd do better on these.

"Potions is both art and science," began Mistress Stukov, a Potioneer of some renown in Eastern Europe. "My craft is versatile, but volatile. Many years ago, Dueling accounted for 39% of all overnight stays with Healer Croce." She stopped her pacing, turning sharply towards the assembled first termers. "48% were because of Potions. This statistic was…most upsetting to the Board. For this reason, they pushed through Durmstrang Decree 219." It seemed almost physically painful for her to say the next few words.

"'No student of Durmstrang shall be allowed to take Potions on their first term without prior testing on the competency of said student,'" she quoted, clapping her hands together. "So, let's cut to the chase, shall we? I've been at this job so long I can predict with such accuracy what will occur in the next few minutes you'd think I was the Oracle of Apollo."

Harry thought it was a reasonable claim, considering she looked to be the average age of their professors, around seventy or so.

"At least four of you will end up melting your cauldrons and one of those will require a visit to the Infirmary. So, anyone who has never made a potion before, I'd suggest you get out. If you do not have the ability to identify the basic potions ingredients – something your other classes will remedy after this term, I'm sure – then I insist you leave now. This is one subject where theory simply isn't enough to get you started and where mistakes, even at the basic level, can be…costly."

A girl seated near the front raised her hand and Mistress Stukov called on her. "Mistress, why would identifying the ingredients matter? I mean, they're labeled, aren't they?"

Natalya Stukov sighed, exasperated. "Miss Bayer, tell me, what is the first step in making a Potions?"

"Read the instructions," she answered confidently.

"The second?"

"Gather…the ingredients."

"Correct, and once all the ingredients are laid out in front of you without their labels, do you think you could remember the names of each one if you had never seen them before?"

"Well…no."

Stukov nodded. "That is exactly why. Creatures and Herbology will leave you, at the very least, with a passing familiarity of these things during your first term so that obvious mistakes can be minimized. For those of you interested in this subject at an advanced level, I suggest you also take your Astronomy seriously. The alignment of planetary bodies can have slight, if interesting, effects on potions." With that, she started writing on the rolling blackboard to her side.

More than half the class took that as a sign to leave. "You staying for this?" Harry asked Blaise.

"Uh-huh." Blaise said a bit absently, eyes reading the instructions as they were written.

"Alright, see you at Transfiguration."

Astrid was waiting for him outside the Potions Lab, which was separate from the Castle. "Hey, where are the others?" Harry asked.

She was twirling locks of gold with her index. "They're in the other group today." Ah, right. Each batch of students was split up into two groups so that they'd have standard 20-man classes.

"So, what do you want to do?" Their options were limited to things that could be done in under an hour.

"Well, it's Sunday. So we could go to the River," she proposed.

He didn't need a reminder. Blaise had been moaning on the injustice of having their tests today all throughout breakfast. The way he'd done it, one would think Sunday classes were going to be a regular occurrence instead of the one-time thing that it was.

"The river," he agreed, nodding amicably.

* * *

Harry did alright in Transfiguration, he supposed, although his efforts weren't truly remarkable, unlike Charms.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Potter."

"Good afternoon, sir." Harry said. He was at a disadvantage, this particular Master's name escaping him at a most inopportune time.

The Master, stroking his rather distracting, signature mustache, leaned into his swivel chair. "Well, go on then. Impress me."

Harry took his time to regard the situation. The room they were in was the definition of sparse, nothing but the floor and four walls. How was he supposed to demonstrate without anything to work with? He couldn't really be expected to transfigure something in this setting especially since the Castle's internal structure was highly resistant to change.

"Sir, there's nothing to work with," Harry pointed out.

The old man only raised his eyebrow. "This is my problem how?" it said.

Huh, so it was like that then. He could try the phoenix animation trick again, but there was a problem. Last time, Blaise had conveniently made it for him and the tree provided enough fuel that all he had to do was slow its rate of consumption. He didn't fancy his chances of simultaneously creating and maintaining a fire.

"Anytime today would be fantastic." the professor remarked snidely. Jaw tightened, nostrils flared and eyes flashed; all signs evident in Harry.

Emotions and magical skill made for a dangerous combination. Things were in play before Harry's mind had caught up to his actions.

The wizard, anticipating his reaction, stood from his seat right before Harry's animation took effect.

Up-up-down went the chair, adjusting its height while it spun clockwise, half-clockwise and counterclockwise in rapid succession. The actions continued to repeat with two or three variations, following a rhythm Harry had made up in his head.

The Master, far from displeased strangely enough, continued to watch before sighing. "What a shame. Well, get out of here. I've got more students to test." Chairs and tables suddenly sprung from the sides, out of hiding, each holding a variety of knickknacks.

Harry felt his stomach sink, a bitter taste creeping into his mouth as he left, feeling he had failed somehow. He ended up getting knocked out in Dueling without much of a fight later that day.

* * *

Harry was stock still at breakfast, eyes glued onto a still facedown card where his food would normally be.

"Why don't you just open it?" Blaise asked, munching on a piece of toast and giving everything else on the table dubious looks. He had yet to recover from the reindeer incident. "It can't be that bad, right?"

"It is," Viktor said grimly from across the table. Harry had told him about the odd teacher. "He charmed a Master's seat during the testing."

"Which one?" Gina asked. "Yes, Blaise, that's just marmalade and no, Scandinavian marmalade isn't made from unicorns."

"Just checking," Blaise muttered.

Viktor uttered a single, terrifying name; one that could reduce grown students to tears by the severity with which he judged. This was fear personified. This was perfection incarnate. This was- "Rosembach."

Gina's mouth hung open. "No! The head of the Charms Department?"

Viktor nodded gravely. "The grades I got from that man were so low I failed his class in a month."

"Well, it's his first term. Surely he couldn't have done so badly that they'd kick him out right?" Gina said thoughtfully. "I mean, it's practically against the school charter to do so."

"I wouldn't be too sure," Viktor said, shaking his head. "Rosembach has clout with the Board and he's a Senior Master. Does that constitute an attack on a Master though? Using a charm?"

"I'm getting expelled in my first term." Harry said woefully.

Dayna chose just then to stop by for a word. "Hey Harry, we're going out for- is that your result? Oooh, let me see." She swiped it with her free hand, giving it a cursory glance before her eyes widened. "Oh! Wow!"

Wait. Wow?

Harry blinked stupidly at her reaction. "Congratulations! This is great."

"What?" Harry managed.

"Here, see for yourself." Dayna said, handing him back the card.

_Harry James Potter – Results _  
_ Theory: 1-2_  
_ Transfiguration: 1-3_  
_ Charms: 3-1_


End file.
